A few months ago I splurged on Ariana Grande tickets for the kids. I knew there was no way in hell that my husband R would be able to sit through a concert, let alone sitting with thousands of screaming fans, so I knew it was just going to be me.
The concert was two hours away so we made a day of it, spending most of the morning at the mall. We were excited to go back to the best sushi buffet in the world. As you can see, the kids loved it. I have no idea what I would do if our kids were picky but the stranger the food the better. Yep, they ate raw seafood and pig feet.
We got to the arena to find a guy selling concert tickets for twenty bucks a pop. Before you say OH MY GOSH THAT IS WAY TOO EXPENSIVE, I knew (and was right) that concert tickets were double that price and the cut was inappropriate for little kids. (Think belly shirts.) In fact, a couple of moms stopped to ask me where I got the shirts and I happily told them: THE PARKING LOT.
I didn’t feel like spending hours in line so I took the kids to the park across the street. I anticipated we’d be in the parking lot for a while so they packed their scooters and skateboards. It was pretty cool to see them running around while the line formed.
The opening band was called Rixton, a young, fun Brit band. My seven year old was not amused. She got tired very quickly, as expected. The ten year old grew tired halfway through the concert. The boy though loved the entire experience and wore his Ariana Grande shirt with pride to school the next day.
Did I enjoy the concert? Yes, somewhat. If there is any time to understand that saying “You’re only as happy as your saddest child” (something like that), this was it. Again, those concert tickets weren’t for me. The tickets were for them. They had fun and that’s enough for me.