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!).

20 July 2017

Damn It Monday...

I am not a Monday fan.
There has never really been a point in my life where I have relished a Monday.
School. Job. It's never been good.
Holidays don’t start on Mondays, parties end on Mondays. Good ones.
Essentially, and from a purely technical point of view, Mondays suck.

Except that is.
For one hour, between 7:30am and 8:30am every Monday morning.
And why I hear you cry? Why?
Because at 7:30am Mrs. Amazing, Boy10 and BabyBoy3 all leave for the day leaving just me and Miss6.
Alone. With an hour before we need to leave for school.
That’s why.

We normally play games.
Board games. Big, BabyBoy3 isn’t allowed to play because he break everything or eats the pieces, board games. The more grown up ones.
And Miss6 hella loves it.
She generally doesn't know the rules, or how to play. She just enjoys the playing.
She normally wins too. Not quite sure how.
I'm not letting her...

Miss6: 'So what does a two (on the dice) mean?'
It mean <Sighs> that once again you have bested my warrior and stomped him into the ground... <Is not entirely happy>
Miss6: 'Do I get your treasure too?'
<Passes over treasure>
Miss6: 'All of it...'
<Passes over hidden best treasure>
Miss6: 'And what happens to you?'
I get turned into a frog.. <Sighs>
Miss6: <Big smile>

(Hair by DoingHisBestDadStudios)

And I love it too.
Yesterday we played on the Wii. Turns out Miss6 is utterly, utterly rubbish at MarioKart.
Can’t even go in a straight line. <Is appalled>
Don’t worry. The training has now started.


Me and Miss6 were totally ready for school and work.
We had waved everyone else off. We had both made a plan to be as ready as possible. So we could have more time playing, something.
Miss6 had requested Minecraft.
Which Boy10 had heard. And as he left he made me swear that we would create a new world, and not use any of his. I swore I would try to do that, but if I forgot he shouldn’t be too cross.
Boy10 did not take my little joke well, and I really was made to swear and not to mess with his levels. Fair play.
Obv. I wouldn’t unless I had revenge to do.

So there we were.
I had made sure we had done everything, ready for work and school. Bags packed. Hair done, hers not mine. Water bottle ready. Shoes on. And we got to spend some lovely time with each other.
I love it when a plan comes together.

Then I opened the front door and checked the weather.
It is summer time. But this is the UK. The weather wobbles about quite a lot. It's worth a check at least.
And I can smell if it’s going to rain (oh bacon why can’t I have any special skills that make give me power money).
I blame having to be a reluctant paperboy from age 11-16 for this skill.
I always knew the rain was coming, and was pushed out of the door anyway. And got soaked.
Because that’s the fun of delivering papers.

My weather senses say rain.
So I put on my coat. But then again as it’s the UK and my hair is departing me, I put on my sun hat too.
Miss6 asks if she needs her sun hat. Naaa. It's gonna rain.
Suntan lotion? Naa. Rain again.
I hand Miss6 a coat and off we head to school.

(<Applies factor 15K suntan lotion (tar)>

And I am happy with what I've chosen.
The rule of index finger thumb is, that Mrs. Amazing taught me I totally worked out on my own is:
If I am wearing a coat. Any children with me need a coat.
If I’ve sut lotion on, they need it on.
If my pint is nearly empty then that’s when you order a ‘local’s’ half…

To the top... <Give look>
Barsteward: 'That’s your fifth 'half' tonight... You are taking the smeg...' <Frowny face>
Barsteward: 'There wasn't even a quarter left in that pint...'
WHAT! There’s no way I’ve had five pints, I can only cope with four, on a good night!
You sir are wrong, AKA, captain Wrongo.
<Grabs pint and goes to leave>
<Falls over in heap, due to nothing>

As we walk the weather is cloudy.
So I am feeling fine about my decision. Yet everyone we pass has dressed for sun. Not like me and Miss6. We’re dressed for rain.
I drop off Miss6. Wrestle her for a hug goodbye and she's away.
The fellas I walk out of school with all have shorts on. And by now I've taken off my coat.
Bit hot. Glad I’ve got my hat.

As I walk to work.
The damn clouds clear. Again I say, smeg. The sun pops out and goes for the burn. It's a glorious day. One would just need a sun hat and suntan lotion on and life would be good.
I sit at work and watch the sunshine getting more sunnier and shinier from my desk.
Smegging weather.

By ten thirty I accept I've made a big mistake.
The sun is beaming away in the sky. And I am imaging poor Miss6 been forced to play outside with a blanket over head. So I excuse myself from work for a quick mission of mercy.
I leg it home and grab Miss6's hat. Miss6 has suntan lotion at school for emergencies. Like now. The lovely teachers I am sure will apply it for her.
I've just got to get the hat in and the message.

Getting into a school outside of pickup and drop off times isn't the easiest.
And I have to wait at reception for someone to buzz me in.
The lovely lady at reception greets me with a smile. But that smile starts fading as she sees I am carrying a child's hat.
I've mine on my head. It's clearly not mine...

What? <Is indignant> I like to wear two hats at a time...
<Puts on both> <Looks insane>
Double protection...

I explain to the lady at reception the situation.
It doesn't sound good. There is no way to make it sound good either.
I just have to suck it up and admit I've been a crapola parent.
<Hangs head>

(Dishonor! Dishonor on me,
dishonor on my cow,
dishonor on my whole family!)

I fess up...

Morning… er… please can you give this hat to Miss6 as I forget to give to her.
Yes, yes, I am a terrible father.
… er… I also neglected to plaster her with suntan lotion...
...Yes. Yes she is likely to burning like bacon in a jet engine...
<Would like ground to swallow me up>
… So please... <Is getting a look of disgust>....
... Please can someone apply some suntan lotion to her...
[You could hear a pin drop]
<Leaves like a mouse that struggles to look after their children>

Damn you Monday.