Hi! <Waves>

Funny and honest tales from a made-to-work Dad of three, wobbling, graying, and laughing his way through parenthood. Armed to the teeth with Nerf guns, full of pie, fighting a chocolate addiction, but genuinely honoured to be at least half of Team Parents (yay!).

9 June 2015

The 3 stages of Peekabo

Stage 1: Lovely sweet, innocent, Peekaboo

I put a cloth over my head (wondering what I can smell).

Where's Daddy?

BabyBoy1 panics
'One minute he's here, then poof, he's gone! He's magic!'

I pull the sick soaked cloth off my head and mentally note to check cloths before putting them on my head. BabyBoy1 erupts in smiles and laughter. Daddy has magically re-appeared.

I'm brilliant. It's brilliant. He's brilliant.
Best game ever!

(Unhappy I had the cloth on my head, I got Boy7 to wear it.
Made me feel loads better)
(Yes, Roses do grow out of his head)

Stage 2: Crap Hide and Seek

Peekaboo has evolved. You can now move and we call it hide and seek.
Miss4 loves hide and seek.

'Daddy come find me!'
I watch Miss4 hide behind the curtain. She sees me watch her hide too, giggling. Her feet are sticking out of the bottom of the curtain. Bless.
The sun is shining behind her perfectly silhouetting her tiny body in the curtain. She is giggling noisily and calling out 'Yooohoooo' to help me out.

Finding her may not be the challenge she imagines it is. (Or Mrs. Amazing has been making comments about my finding and looking skills, again...)

But I make a show of it like a puppet from sesame street.

Where's Miss4? Is she here? <I look under a pen>
More giggles escape from behind the curtain.
Is she here? <I check under my cup of tea, and drink it>
Is she in the chocolate cupboard? <Whilst I'm here...>
Is she behind the kettle? <Makes a round>

Much pretending later I pull the curtain back and 'find' her.
Good game, laughs all around.
And no one nearly has a heart attack.

Stage 3: Ninja skills

It's no longer peekaboo. All the fun and innocence of the original game has gone. It's not even joyful hide and seek. Boy7 has ramped up peekaboo to the extreme. It's now comes with a warning, it's Ninja Attack. (Great game).

I've had a long day at work. I'm tired and I just want to sit down with a gallon of tea, eat chocolate until I need tummy settlers and watch comedies. But no, the house monster needs feeding and it wants dirty laundry.
Not paying attention I open the airing cupboard to get all the laundry out of the laundry bin, unaware that Boy7 is currently playing 'Peekaboo' with me.

It turns out that Boy7 started playing the moment I got in the door. Where ever he is, he hasn't made any tell tale sounds. He is in stealth mode, utterly silent, awaiting his prey.
Oh and everyone else is in on it. 
The gits.

Where's Boy7?
I ask innocently looking away from the laundry bin.
I look back just as Boy7 explodes out of the laundry bin shouting.

Ekkkkk! (This is an ancient battle cry I learnt from a well hard warrior, it may sound (look) like a girls scream to you. But it is actually an ancient warrior battle cry, I swear) (Tits).

Everyone laughs at Boy7's brilliant 'Peekaboo'.

Deepbreath!... Deepbreath!... Deepbreath!... Heart racing...
Breath... Breath...
Potential heart attack... Pride in shatters... Must avenge... Not dying... Be cool... Be cool... Don't punch him...

I lean against the banister for a moment, to clear the spots before my eyes, and then finally join in the laughing (Whilst silently plotting revenge).
Still, he keeps me young...