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!).

1 October 2017

(my) Hobson's choice

Well actually the choice was mine.
Not Hobson’s. This didn't involve him at all.
This was me and my kids (and this all happened a while back too...).

Hobson if you didn’t know.
I didn’t. Was a livery stable owner. And he offered people a horse if they stayed. Those staying with Hobo (as I am sure he was called) assumed as he had 40+ horses. They'd get their choice of horse to use. Whereas Hobo only let you pick the one horse he offered. Which he did to ensure his horses got fair rotation.
Which makes sense and explains the saying.

(Hobo: ‘Which horse would you like?’
… er… the one with the shotgun please!
Hobo: ‘Thirty/Thirty?’
… I’ve er… er… gotta visit the bank later…
<Doesn’t Look innocent>

Of course that wasn't my problem.
We don't have any horses in the house. Unless you count toy ones. In which case we've got a Duplo one, a few Playmobil one's. Some with hella cool armour.
A few solid plastic realistic toy ones, that all are female, I know, I looked, no huge penises swinging low there.
But as for real horses in stables? None.
And the choice I was facing wasn't a have it or lump choice (Hobson's) either.
Mine was: do you want the very excellent mare, or the stallion.
With the mare being: attending Miss6's summer fair.
And the stallion being: going to watch BabyBoy3 in his first sports day at nursery.

So not really a Hobson’s choice thing at all…
<Shrugs shoulders> I'd done all that Hobo research…
Seemed a shame to waste it…

Miss6 is really excited about her fair.
And it sounds great fun. Bouncy castle. Games. Stalls the children have created crap things for. It's just for her year and she feels very involved in it.
If there wasn't a scheduling clash, I would be there on the bouncy castle.

BabyBoy3's sports day.
Is that. A sports day. Which comes with its own problems (see here).
And with it's own brilliant parts.
It's great fun watching tiny people (I mean children) doing simple, basic sports.
As it is always hilarious how bad they are at it.
And I think it's important as a Dad I am there watching. Cheering my little boy on.
I was there for both of Boy10's.
I was there for both of Miss6's.
Surely I should be there for BabyBoy3's first one.

See my problem?
I cannot attend both without a teleporter, or a cloning machine.
And both of mine are broke…

<To the house in general> Hey! Who's been using the cloning machine?
I've some very important work related stuff I want to clone
<Has chocolate bar in hand>
Boy10: 'I've not touched it today'
BabyBoy3: 'Hawo!' <Jogs past>
Miss6? Where are you?
<Finds Miss6, surrounded by thousands and thousands of pompoms>
Oh… Right….

(Calvin and Hobbes is utterly brilliant.
Go read it now… I’ll wait…
<Doesn’t wait>)

I made my decision.
And had to tell Miss6 the bad news.
I choose my moment carefully and quietly, and told her I couldn't make it tomorrow.
I explained about BabyBoy3 and it being his first sports day.
Miss6 was fine...

Miss6: 'OK' <Is fine>
Oh... Well you're being very sensible about it...
Good for you...
<Is a little hurt>
Miss6: 'It's OK. Mummy's coming'
<Is a lottle (real word) hurt>

Then the fates intervened.
Oh those fates...

That night BabyBoy3 had a bit of temperature.
Poor little sausage. But he went to bed happily enough.
Mrs. Amazing went out to save the world again.
Which left me to throw Miss6 and Boy10 into bed, which I had just done.
Made myself some food.

BabyBoy3’s first cry.
Was just as I finished my food. Phew.
Up I ran to his room. Poor little dude. All hot and bothered.
Nothing sounds like a tiny child's cry of unhappiness to make me move.
And BabyBoy3 was giving it all guns.
He was not happy.

Quick Calpol top up.
A hug and cuddle. Back into bed he goes.
Everyone wants BabyBoy3 to continue sleeping. BabyBoy3 did. I defo did.
He appeared settled so I sneak out of his room and head downstairs.
Hoping against hope that maybe, just maybe, the Calpol will rattle through his little body, drop his temperature, and he can just sleep through until morning.
About 8:30am would be just lovely.

The second cry was ten minutes later.
And BabyBoy3 was a lot harder to settle that time.

The third was as I tried to leave the room.

The fourth was in my face etc...

Mrs. Amazing arrived home at 10pm.
To find me a bit chanked off with BabyBoy3 not sleeping.
And BabyBoy3 not sleeping.
Mrs. Amazing took immediate and decisive action.
She went to bed.

That’s your plan?
Mrs. Amazing: ‘Yep’ <Puts on jammies>
Just to go to sleep and leave me with BabyBoy3?
Mrs. Amazing: ‘Yep’ <Puts on sleeping socks, sleeping hat, sleeping top etc...>
I’ve had a really long day… <Sad face>
Mrs. Amazing: ‘Poor thing… Shhhh…. Zzz’
Mrs. Amazing: <Fake sleeps until I leave the room>

It was a clever idea. Mrs. Amazing had instantly understood how the night was going to pan out. And was just utilizing everyone’s best sleep / being awake times.
I’m fine staying up later than Mrs. Amazing who is very happy in bed before ten.
So I took the first shift with BabyBoy3. Who was only managing to sleep for thirty minutes at a time. Then having a right ol’ shout about how he was feeling. Wanted a good cuddling.
Then put down for some more sleep.
And then repeat.
A lot.

I don’t know when I went to bed.
To hand the care of BabyBoy3 over to Mrs. Amazing. But I know I lasted as long as I could for her. <Blushes>
After that the night is a bit of blur.
A not getting much sleep blur. Where BabyBoy3 is either the cutest sweetest little thing in the world, bouncing about on our bed. That is making us both laugh so much.
Or he is the sleep destroyer.
Or Captain whinge-pants. Like SpongeBob, but less fun.

BabyBoy3 cannot settle.
So we have short cartoons playing on our phones. Dipdap which is short and lovely, and brilliant. And if you look on YouTube you can find hour long compilations of.
I am pretty sure I spent two hours holding my phone over BabyBoy3’s head so he could watch Dipdap.
Drifting in and out of sleep.

Obv. Mrs. Amazing did loads too.
And was being the super caring one. I’d write about it, but if one of us was up the other was sleeping. So I don’t really know. But she was amazing I am sure.
The night dragged on.
BabyBoy3 being so giggly and lovely, and then poorly and unhappy, and then just catching some sleep.
A long night.

At some point.
I decided enough was enough. Mrs. Amazing needed some sleep. BabyBoy3 was not going to sleep any more. I gave up the pretence and I took BabyBoy3 downstairs with a duvet, and we snuggled under together watching cartoon after cartoon.
Which I mainly sleep though. But woke every ten minutes to a BabyBoy3 waking me up for a new Fireman Sam or PAW Patrol.
Until I finally realised that was kind of like sleep torture for me.  And BabyBoy3 wasn’t sleeping at all.
So I put a film on - The Pirate fairy.
I Miss6 hella loves that film.

Five minutes into the film BabyBoy3 falls asleep.
And then sleeps until normal morning time. So do I.
DOH! Should have done the film thing two hours ago.

(Funny what can trigger a memory… Revenge of Doh!
Play it here for free!)

Obv. BabyBoy3 wasn’t going to his Sports Day.
We called nursery and told them.
And suddenly I was very able to attend Miss6’s fair!
Brilliant! That’ll be fun.

Of course.
Had I known that BabyBoy3 was going to be sick.
Had I known… Then I wouldn’t have told Miss6 yesterday that I had chosen BabyBoy3’s event over hers.
I’m sure there’s some really irritating irony here about Hobson’s choice and all that.
About how really, I didn’t really have any choice about which child's thingy I was attending at all. I was always getting the horse I was offered.
<Refuses to think about it anymore> LALALALALALALA

Anyway. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Miss6 forgives quickly. I think…
I hope…

<Orders awesome guilt, no reason just I love you, Lego online for Miss6>

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