The theatre and not quite getting the hang of the selfie

A week or so ago we got one of those rocking horse turd (ie mythical) nights out without the kids. We went to see Wicked at the theatre, marking only the third time* we’ve been out together in the evening without the kids since Danger was born 18 months ago. And one of those was pretty much a sprint into town, a race to eat a yasi yaki soba at Wagamamas before dashing back. Part of the problem with 3 kids under 6 is the whole bedtime thing. Generally when they go down it’s okay and even Danger doesn’t tend to wake up between 8pm and midnight but if we’re going out in London, which is a tantalising 30 minutes by train from my office, it means that someone has to put 3 children to bed who are used to their mum or dad putting them to bed. That’s a big ask.

Anyway, my mum kindly offered to attempt this Herculean task while we went to the theatre. I foolishly decided on decorum and consequently wore long trousers, so by the time we made it to Victoria, I was dangerously close to passing out from heat stroke. Still, the theatre wasn’t as hot as it could have been. The one odd thing was walking along with wifey without a child in tow. We both found our hands straying behind to grasp a child that wasn’t there. Holding hands with each other, it felt a little odd to hold an adult sized hand.

Me and wifey at the theatre

We had some good seats so I decided to go on trend and take a selfie of the wife and me. The thing is, the front facing camera on my phone isn’t so awesome as the rear facing one, and it appears the shutter speed is quite slow. So instead of photographing us in the centre of the 8th row from the front of the theatre, I ended up with the picture above. I rather like it to be honest.

In the end we got home at around midnight. The kids had been well behaved and didn’t wake up in the night. We were shattered but had thoroughly enjoyed ourselves and thought we must do it again sometime.

Who knows, maybe something less ambitious but I love hanging out with my lady wife.

*no, I’m not counting the time we got a babysitter to go to parents evening at the school. That’s sick.