Get ready to Wiggle

As I walked toward the busy street, my wife called for me to be careful, as traffic was whirring by.
Unfazed, I continued at my pace, stepping off the curb and moving across the street.
“Honey,” I said, “I just survived 70 minutes of The Wiggles. Clearly, I am invincible.”
For those of you without small children, you have no idea what I am talking about. For those of you with young children, you are now saying over and over, “Do the monkey!!!!”
The Wiggles, for the uninitiated, is a musical group that is required cult-like viewing for any child 5 and under. They are four Australian men who sing such songs as “Fruit Salad, Yummy Yummy” “Toot, toot, chugga chugga, big red car” and “Mommy’s wallet is in her purse.” (Not completely sure about that last one. They all run together.)
The Wiggles’ North American tour visited Columbia recently, and my wife somehow caught wind of this, despite my efforts to limit any and all forms of Wiggles-related communication to enter our home.
This was not the first Wiggles concert for my children. They went to one a while back in Atlanta. I tricked my father-in-law into going by hyping them up, telling him what a special time it would be to spend with his grandchildren. He is still considering whether he wants to speak to me ever again.
This concert was to begin at 3 p.m., so we left with what we thought was ample time to get in our seats. This was before we found out that, in Columbia, there are approximately four parking spaces available for concert-goers. We sat in traffic for what I believe was 11 days. (Time tends to crawl when you have “Are we at The Wiggles yet? Are we at The Wiggles yet?” coming at you in stereo from the back seat.
Eventually, my wife and I decided to split up. (No, not that kind of split up. Trust me, if there is ever a time when a husband and wife need to be there for each other, it’s going to see The Wiggles.) My wife decided to take our daughter, Allie, to the ticket booth, while I would sit in traffic. Parker would assist me by screaming, “ME GO WITH MOMMMMMMMYYYYY!!!!’
When we finally got near what I thought may have been a parking lot, a man in a very official vest said, “Sorry, all lots are full.” I asked him where we could park. He helpfully said, “Nowhere. Lots are full.”
Well, turns out that a restaurant about eight blocks away was not full, and I was soon on my hike to the arena, really hoping that the “Customer Parking Only” was not a strictly enforced rule.
Eventually, we made it into the arena. Allie was bounding ahead, ready to dance and sing and do all of the stuff you are supposed to do at a Wiggles concert. Parker, meanwhile, was awestruck. When we walked down the tunnel to our seats, he saw The Wiggles’ set. He beamed wild-eyed, turned to me and screamed, “WIGGLES!!!!” OK, so even a cynical crab like me can admit that the excitement he was experiencing would make it worth it.
When The Wiggles came out, we were first informed that Greg, the leader of the Wiggles, was not on tour, as he was in Australia having hernia surgery. I don’t know about you, but I think a crowd full of kids would have been fine with being told Greg had a “tummyache.” Granted, my wife, being the kind of person who has no problem discussing clinical things over the dinner table, told Allie, “Remember when Parker had hernia surgeries? That’s what Greg’s having.” Tummyache, dear. Tummyache is fine.
I will have to give The Wiggles credit on one thing: They definitely become one with the crowd. All of the Wiggles run through the arena, stopping and chatting up kids and such. I guess when the worst thing an obsessed fan will do is spit up on you, you’re pretty safe heading into the masses.
At one point during the show, the four Gibbonses were going through the motions, doing the monkey, one of the Wiggles more popular dances. I looked around and saw thousands of other parents doing the same thing. I am sure there were scads of people who once considered themselves cool or hip or at least slightly with it. At that moment, there was not a cool one in the bunch, but rather a bunch of us waving our arms up and down hollering, “Ooooh-ooooh, eeeh-eeeh, ooooh-ooooh, eeeh-eeeh.”
Truth be told, it was actually a fairly tolerable event. The kids had a great time, which is the most important thing. And I have discovered I am, in fact, invincible.