Come back with me kids to 1995 and my son's tour de force.
If tour means big fat and de force means fucking nightmare.
The big shit was a little shit of around 8 at the time and I had taken him to see the film Toy Story the previous weekend.
For those of you that have been living the past 15 years under a rock, it is a computer animated Disney hugfest where everyone ends up living happily ever after.
Of course along with the release of the film came the merchandising whores who had the shelves lined with dolls, accessories and whatever else they could think of to screw yet another parent out of their hard earned bucks to shUT ThE litTLE BRAT UP SO I CAN PICK UP LIGHTBULBS GOD DAMN IT!
So home we return with the entire cast of Toy Story with cotton blown up their asses. He didn't miss a one, we had Buzz,Woody, Rex, Mr Potato Head and all the other characters that I have managed to block out of my mind..
It just so happened that we were having company that night and my darling sweet 8 year old son wanted to make up a play and be the evening's entertainment. I was so thrilled. Mostly because his practicing and creating "sets" would allow me an hour or so peace to throw chips in a bowl and pour the boxed wine into the expensive wine bottles I keep cleaned under the sink to reuse for such an occasion.
Guests arrived. Comments on the wonderful wine bouquet ensued and it was time for number one son to put on his show.
He called everyone into the den and asked to be introduced.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, For Your Viewing Pleasure, A One Boy Play Written and Directed By Kiddo!"
Kid began his performance by running into the room with one of his new doll in hand...
"Look everyone, I got a Woody!!!"
I am sure you've heard the old saying....the show must go on....but after the initial look of horror followed by myself and my mature guests rolling on the floor and pissing themselves with laughter...it wasn't possible.
That one moment is going to end up costing me thousands in therapy costs.