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!).

8 March 2017

A Little Breakfast Magic...

Monday morning.
Yuk. And a change to the normal routine.
Mrs. Amazing is not taking BabyBoy2 and Boy9 with her as she heads off to save the world work.
Instead me and Miss6 have the dubious pleasure of their company.

Miss6 has requested pancakes.
In her nicest voice. I'd even been given a hug. Hell yeah I'm making pancakes.
We have pancakes a lot. On any day of the week. As it's a meal everyone will eat.
But Miss6 backed up pancake request with the argument that if we can pancakes on a Tuesday (Shrove Tuesday) we can have them on a Monday.
Fair enough.

Team Parent (yay!) only has one misgiving.
Time. As Monday Mrs. Amazing heads off early.
Still Miss6 did ask nicely. And I got an unforced or not-at-all-reluctant hug!
I head downstairs. Put awesome music on. Kettle on. Whisk pancake batter. Start cooking.
To save time I do three pans at once (oh yes, three). I've five to feed.
I ain't got no time for no one-pan crap.

Miss6: 'Daddy can you move this laundry for me'
<Is shuffling pans>... Hang on! <Flips pancake> <Shoves another pancake into oven to keep warm> <Pours batter, swirls>
... Yes?
Miss6: 'Can you move this...please'
Sure... Why don't you just walk around it?... <Glances over at frying pans>
Ok... Is that better?
Miss6: 'No'
<Moves it again> THERE? <Can see burning going on>
Miss6: 'N-o' <Sounds out the word>
Well h-e-r-e is where I am going to put it <Runs back to burning pancakes>
Mrs. Amazing: <Enters room> 'Oh! it's smokey in here'
Mrs. Amazing: <Opens every window everywhere>
<Hides pipe>
<Gives Miss6 quick, minor, evils>
Miss6: <Waves back>

(You know… <Looks at pancake batter>
I think this situation calls for Big Ol’ Beefy..
Boy9: ‘Ol' Beefy?’
Yep! Ol’ Bloody enormous-ENORMOUS frying pan)

I do three sizes of pancakes.
BabyBoy2 and Miss6 prefer small pancakes. It raises the Golden Syrup to pancake ratio I am sure. But also the bigger ones they struggle to cut up. And I'm fed up watching them shove the whole thing into their mouths at once and choking.
It's yuk.
Medium for Miss6 and Boy9. Miss6 likes variety.
And large pancakes for Boy9, Mrs. Amazing and me. Although all of Team Parent (yay!) will eat any size really.
However Miss6 has recently upgraded and now wants big pancakes.
So recent in fact. I did not know.
So as Boy9’s still not at the table. I give Miss6 of Boy9's large pancakes.
I am sure it will be fine.

Brainzilla: '... It won't though, will it?'
Lalalalala Not cooking anymore, it'll WILL be fine Lalalalala

Then Mrs. Amazing escapes leaves for the day.
Boy9 enters and sits...

[Sinister music plays]
[One millisecond has passed]
<Has to break up fight between Boy9 and Miss6. Apparently Miss6 was looking at him>
Miss6: 'I was looking at the trees outside'
OK... Move here. Look at trees. But most importantly EAT <Points at cold pancakes>
Boy9, I'll get your pancakes, just chill about Miss6, she was really looking at trees
<Isn't as convinced as I sound>
<Gets warming pancakes from oven>
<Wishes I had a cloth as this plate is really very hot>
<Is swapping hands quickly> Here ya go!
Boy9: 'These are small pancakes?' <As though I have suggested he lick the toilet>
All the big ones got eaten... <Doesn't mention it was Miss6>

Boy9 does not take this well.
But I calm him down. It's been a weekend of sickness and bugs. He is going to be on the edge of burning fury. I am prepared.
He calms. And begrudgingly eats the smalls pancakes.
I don't think I've ever seen anyone so offended at having to eat, small, fluffy pancakes covered in Golden Syrup.

That drama resolved.
I find BabyBoy2 and tell him has to ask to get down the from the table.

BabyBoy2: 'Sorwee Daddy, sorwee...' <Head down, brilliant, heartfelt sorry>
Dude! It's OK... <Gives hair ruffle> Just come back to the table and ask to get down...
BabyBoy2: <Goes back to table> <Starts eating more pancakes>
... <Didn't expect that>
<Sees Miss6 NOT eating> Miss6! EAT!
Miss6: <Starts furious eating>
[Two milliseconds later]
Miss6: <Stops eating>

And amazingly before the end of time itself. All three children have eaten enough pancakes.
BabyBoy2 twice. Top work that boy. Gold star.
Boy9 is fringe on how much he has eaten. But a sneaky banana next to him is soon consumed. Miss6’s full too.
The hatrick.

Right Team! <Smiles weirdly by accident>
Let's all empty the dishwasher together!
<Blank 'but we don't want to' faces all round>
I'll put rocking music on!!!
Boy9: 'F'Off'

No way.
I am not falling for this one. Letting them all go. I've cooked and served. I soothed and I've calmed. I am not being left with all the dishes to do. And there's some to put away. That I washed last night.

Boy9 you pick a song...

I need Boy9 to buy into this.
The others look up to him, figuratively, speculatively and literally.
If Boy9 engages I've a pretty good chance with Miss6 and BabyBoy2 joining in.
Plus Boy9 likes rock. He picks 'Lukas Graham - Seven Years'.
Swing and a miss.

Great song.
Bad, bad choice for this moment. We need high tempo. Dancey music. I want to fill the room with sound and beats. If I can't boogie my way around the kitchen whilst I put away plates than what is the point.
Also the monkeys are more helpful when they are dancing about with me, putting stuff away.
However. I need Boy9. I reluctantly agree.
But then suddenly, and very suspiciously, Boy9 needs to use the toilet.
Seeing a chance to look doubly-good.
Miss6 brings her plate over...

... Thanks... But we gotta empty this first... <Opens dishwasher>
Miss6: <Mutters> 'Fairy poop'

I rule that Boy9 has missed his window.
Good. As he naffed off when everyone else started clearing plates.
Miss6 should have the next choice. As she did come straight over to help.
BabyBoy2 has arrived to help too.
<Removes all sharps from dishwasher>

(Boy9: Dad? Where does the sword-axe go?
Fifth stud from the right, between the knuckle-smasher…
And your mother’s weekend pike...)

But I am now on guard. And want to check what Miss6 may choose.
Just in case...

Miss6? If theoretically you were given the song choice, what would you go with?
Miss6: 'Trolls soundtrack!'
Oooooo... good choice... But we have already heard that today...
Twice… <Gives look>

I declare father-marshall-law and just pick something myself.
Something appropriate for how much I we all want to bounce around.
Also something I know we will all love. It only takes a few swipes on me phone to find something appropriate: Macklemore and Ryan Lewis - Can't Hold Us (it’s only link I could find that had the album version).

The track is only four minutes and eighteen seconds.
It's not long. And once it is done. Fights will break out.
Miss6 and Boy9 will come to loggerheads again. And again.
BabyBoy2 will have a right hissy fit over his socks.
And at some point I will ban Boy9 until the end of time from using the computer in the morning as he's so grumpy when gets off it. And for making Grannie Amazing wait.
Miss6 will forget she is supposed to be getting dressed for thirty minutes and make us late for school. And I am will be glad to get to work.
And I'm never glad to get to work.

But back... back before the rest of the morning happened.
As the first beat of 'Can't Hold Us' floated out of the speaker. As the opening drums thumped out and filled the air.
I cranked the volume up to twelve and the piano's melody started...
Boy9 appears out of the toilet.
Fist pumping.

I've arms up and I'm bouncing about.
We all are. Miss6 pretends to do the fast rapping. (It's hella cute). BabyBoy2 is fist pumping too. Moving with nought by raw passion.
Boy9's busts some excellent moves as winds his way over to us.
The joy of the music, mine, theirs, spreads and it builds on itself. Envelops us all.
Everyone is singing away. Not the right lyrics for most of us. BabyBoy2 is basically shouting stuff. But who cares!
Plates and cups are flying (safely) out of the dishwasher. And eight hands are making light work of a long job for one.
Whilst boogieing! (real word).

(All three children, and their combined help, represented, fairly I feel, as an octopus called Hank)

Miss6 is passing things to Boy9 that she cannot reach up to do.
Glasses. Mugs for tea. The precious stuff.
BabyBoy2 is carefully and lovingly included by Miss6 and Boy9 who leave things for him to do. Plastics mostly.
Miss6 stops what she is doing to guide him to the right cupboard.
<Replaces china bowl with plastic one in BabyBoy2's hands>
They're so busy I can sneakily siphon the dry washing up on the sink, into what we are all doing, so we do that too!

Miss6 changes to clearing the table and loading.
I didn't even ask. All with a boogie.
She clearly doesn't want this moment with the music to stop. Nor does Boy9, he's helping her.
I stop BabyBoy2 from unloading the dirty plates and explain we are now filling.
He gets it. Ish.

For that song.
We are all dancing and singing away. In our own way. In our own styles.
It's really quite beautiful.
My lovely little loons.
<Wipes away tear>