In my last post, I told you all about what it is like to experience Raisin as a first year.
Over the weekend however, I finally got to see what it was like to Revenge my parents for their antics last year. My siblings and I have been plotting for weeks and weeks and weeks to pull off a day of activities and vengeance.
I then headed into the kitchen to make my first ever full English breakfast…for seven people. I may have been a little bit stressed but it was all edible and as of yet *touch wood* nobody has reported food poisoning. I’ll take that as a sign of success.
We had a day full of challenges planned, including having to write and then perform a musical. We left them a box of props and thirty minutes on the clock and did some last minute prep for other tasks in another room. Half an hour later, we were treated to a beautiful performance about Anne Frank being rescued by aliens…
The beach was next on the agenda and armed with a bucket and spade each, our parents entered into a sandcastle building competition. Due to our inability to google the tides, they also had to cope with the swiftly approaching waves.
Luckily, when you give scientists a task like this, they make diagrams and then make functioning moats. Don’t rush to give them too much credit though: it was nowhere as creative and aesthetically pleasing as the sandcastle citadel Sam and I constructed (though I am a little biased).
When the rain started pouring, we headed back to the house for lunch and then the Shed of Terror. We locked each of our parents in the shed for ten minutes to confront their ‘worst fears’ (for our dad, we covered the shed in misspellings of his name and played his least favourite song if that gives you an indication of how terror-inducing it actually was). While they were in there, they had to construct a poem about how lovely their children were, which they then had to perform in a mini poetry slam, of which we were the judges.
Having passed our tests, they were presented with their own gowns and we embarked on a mini photoshoot in front of our house, to the amusement of our neighbours. You don’t want to know how many shots it took to get the right amount of billowing.
You’ll have to ask my parents whether or not they enjoyed themselves but I crawled under the covers that night tired but content at our revenge.