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!).
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Showing posts with label Boy3. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Boy3. Show all posts

16 February 2018

Is Your Sun Up? (Gro-Clock)...

We've let it slip again.
Which is annoying as Team Parent (yay!) worked really hard on this last time.
It took a lot getting up really early, but we persevered and got the rewards.
BabyBoy3 was managing to sleep until it was wake up time.
Except we've now let it slip.

I love my children.
They are fab. I just wish they would sleep when they are meant to. That would be really good. Then Team Parent (yay!) would get more sleep. And life would be better for all. It's a win win.
It's just hard to make them see that way...

[ARHG O'clock in the morning]
BabyBoy3 go back to bed
BabyBoy3: 'No!'
<Stern voice> It's very early in the morning go back to bed
BabyBoy3: 'No!' <Gets back into bed anyway>
BabyBoy3: <Lies the wrong way up in bed, kicks off all the sheets>
Close enough... Night...
<BranchesLeaves>

(BabyBoy3: <From his room> ‘YAY MORNING!’
TeamParent: <In bed, hiding> ‘BOO MORNING!’)

We have one of those clocks.
A time machine. A Gro-Clock. We had one for Boy10 and Miss7, and now BabyBoy3 has one.
All of them rebelled against it. Fight the power!
The idea is simple. You set the time you want the 'Sun' on the screen to come up. And when that time comes up, the screen changes from a blue sleepy night time picture, to a happy sun picture. There's even an adult lock on it.
So no little hands can alter it.

Boy10 altered it.
He hacked it (as he would say). He jabbed buttons until the sun came up. So we never bothered with the adult mode again. I say Boy10, but he was Boy3 back then.
There was a little while where the clock worked and Boy3 stayed asleep. But I am pretty sure that wasn't for very long and eventually we gave up with the Gro-Clock with Boy3.
There was a few times when we found it unplugged and Boy3 stood there telling us it went off all on it's own, but he did see the sun come up honest guv', just before it went off.
Other times Boy3 would come running in and announce that the sun had come up, only for us to check our clocks and find out the horrible truth.
But on the whole the clock worked well enough that we used it again.
For Miss7 - Who was at that time Miss3.

Miss3 reacted differently to the Gro-Clock.
Most of the time she got it. Most of the time. We still had the same discussions about whether or not the sun had come up with her. She would sit and watch the stars go out until morning. One an hour. <Gives you a look>
The main difference between Miss3 and Boy3's approach to the Gro-Clock. Was anger.
Miss3 broke it...

What on earth was that noise? <Goes to see Miss3
Miss3: <Sat in corner looking furious>
What's this cable?
Miss3: <Huffing sounds>
This is the Gro-Clock cable, where's the...  clock? <Fears the worst>
Miss3: <Points into the hallway>
Oh no... <Checks for pulse> <Attaches power cable>
... I'm afraid it's gone...
Miss3: <Whispers> 'Good'

(Mrs. Amazing: ‘What’s that?’
The Bat-Clock…
Mrs. Amazing: ‘Oh….’
Mrs. Amazing: ‘...I thought it would have been bigger.’
<Lots of giggling>)

I probably could have fixed the clock.
I'm a believer. And a fan of taking stuff apart and jabbing it with a screwdriver until it works or not. But considering Miss3 had broken one Gro-Clock Team Parent (yay!) were not about to throw more money at Miss3. For her to literally throw about.
We're not silly all the time.

So BabyBoy3 does not have the family Gro-Clock.
Passed down through the generations. Both of them. That clock died. From clocktracide.
BabyBoy3 got a brand new one. Which I suppose goes to show just how much we thought the Gro-Clock did work. Despite all I am saying, it still did a lot of good stuff.
It's main bonus was being able to discuss the time with tiny people very early in the morning in a very black and white way...

Is your sun up?
BabyBoy3: 'Er....'
Simple question, yes or no?
BabyBoy3: 'Um....'
That's a no then. Back to bed!

Now try that without the Gro-Clock and it's polarising powers on whether or not it is time to get up...

Do you know what the time is?
BabyBoy3: 'No'
It's far too early, look...
BabyBoy3: 'I literally have no idea what I am looking at, I can't even read my name yet. What the hell are those little lines? …'
It says it's far too early, go back to bed...
BabyBoy3: 'Are you sure you're reading it right? It's not'
Yes I am and it is
BabyBoy3: <Points at the window>
Yes I know the real sun is up and beaming in the window... But it's very early morning and we need you to go back to sleep
BabyBoy3: <Opens curtain> 'Oh father, but look it's a glorious day already! UP! UP! Come and share this day with me! ...'
Go back to bed... Zzz
<Fake sleeps and hopes BabyBoy3 goes round to see Mrs. Amazing>

See! Quite a difference.
The Gro-Clock provides a very simple way to not get involved in basically what is a conceptual relative time conversation first thing in the morning before you've even had your first cuppa.
There's some merit in things.

Still results may vary and all that.
As the two bugs have shown. And of course BabyBoy3 has his own interpretation of the Gro-Clock and its effect on him. BabyBoy3's take on it is that he ignores it.
He knows the rules. Don't come and see us until your sun comes up. So he doesn't.
But he does get up. Starts playing with his toys. Noisily. Shouting at stuff as only three year olds do. We hear the toilet door opening and closing a million times. A light from his bedroom going on and off. He’s no ninja yet. And BabyBoy3 is up and his day has started.
Far too early.

And because he does know the rules.
But only wants to do his interpretation of them. BabyBoy3 waits until the sun on his clock does come up. Which is still far too early in my book, but it's the time we set.
BabyBoy3 waits for the sun and then comes running into us.
Like a HERD OF FLAT FOOTED GIANTS TRYING TO MAKE AS MUCH NOISE AS POSSIBLE.
Miss7 in tow. Utterly silent...

BabyBoy3: 'MY SUN'S UP!!! YAYYYY!!!'
Miss7: ‘Mummymyclocksaysit’stimetogetup.Whyarn’tyougettingup?’
<Is hiding under covers><Where it's warm>

What choice do we have?
None. Team Parent (yay!) are bound by our own rules. We have to get up and start the day. We can't tell the kids to stay in bed until X-o’clock and then change it. Why would BabyBoy3 every care about his sun if we don't follow it ourselves.
Sadly.

So back to us letting it slip.
We have allowed BabyBoy3 just to get up when he feels. Mainly so we can sleep.
But that’s backfired as BabyBoy3 isn’t getting enough sleep now. And is whiny all day.
Which is exhausting, better we have less sleep than him.
So now we've got to train BabyBoy3 to stay in bed and sleep again. Until his sun is up.
Team Parent (yay!) know what we have to do. It's pretty simple. We just don't want to do it.
We will though.

We were on it this morning.
Which is why if you see either of us, we looked extra tired. Not tired. Extra tired.
A whole hour before sun up time. BabyBoy3 was up.
And Team Parent (yay!) being the good team we are tried to out pretend each other being asleep, we shared the early morning pain.
Of putting a very sweetly apologetic BabyBoy3 back to bed, and then tucking him in.
Kissing him good night. Again. Turning off his light and pointing at the Gro-Clock.
And telling him to stay in bed until your sun comes up.

Should only take a week or so to change his habits.
And considering how many years I've got by on this sleep.
I doubt the decrease in sleep will have any affect on me at all...

[Piers Morgan is talking on the radio]
<Listens, doesn't smash the radio to bits and burn the tainted circuits, just listens>
Hmmmmm... You know this Morgan twat fella is actually an utter twat quite interesting and worse than everything soulless and evil in the universe insightful...
Mrs. Amazing: <Dials 999>
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(HEY! Does my butt really look that big? Hell yeah!
<Swaggers off>)



15 December 2017

They Can Move It When They Want To (We're Rocketeers) ...

When it comes to being on time, there are two types of people in the world.
Those that are late and those that are not.
Time stands above us all and is utterly unsympathetic in it's judgement.
No matter your excuses, reasons, things on fires, line of chicks in the road, unfindable school bags. Time judges everyone the same.
Late or not late.

Of course some people would love to be on time.
Like me. Hardwired into my brain is a need and screaming desire to always be on time for everything. Although added into the mix are the words of wisdom I picked as a young boy. Better to be late, than not ready.
Which when applied to the children means it's better to have to push through the sea of parents heading out of the school, have to go to reception, look guilty, and then be buzzed in, WITH Miss6's school bag in hand. Than be on time.
It's complex.

Being on time does bug me though.
I want to be on time. And I organise myself thusly and I assume left to my own devices I would arrive to most things drunk, in a very gentlemanly,  bit early, way.
However I am no longer on my own. Boy10, Miss6, BabyBoy3 and yes indeed Mrs. Amazing now confuse me, and my on-time abilities.
But hell! I wouldn't have it any other way.
Unless of course that other way was still with all of them.
But on time.

I used to care so much about being on time.
That I used to vent my frustrations on those around me. I am no angel now about it now.
But I have worked hard at it and now I internalise all my rage feelings. A lot more healthy (??).
One of the times that I really learnt just how bad I was.
Was with Boy10, back when he was Boy3. Little tiny Boy3.
Come with me and see...

[We all get into a big box with Time Machine written on it]
Cuppa? Biscuit? No, not those... This won't take long.
<Presses big button>
[Everything goes all wobbly]
We're here! The year is 19852011... TOUCH NOTHING!
<Gives you a stern look>

(From the utterly brilliant, and well worth your time, Calvin and Hobbes)

We lived twenty minutes from nursery.
And our mode of transport was me gasping jogging alongside Boy3 on his wobble bike. Ignoring the teasing comments from strangers as we went.
Boy3 would wobble along as fast as he could and his concentration would allow.
Some days we would get wet in the rain. Others we would meander along in the sun. A few times we stopped at the park and played.
But there was this one time at band camp, one morning, when we were running late.
And I really let it all get to me.

Seems daft looking back now.
And dumb. And mean. I was only going to be late for work. I just wanted Boy3 to go faster. And he wouldn't.
We were running late as Boy3 had taken ages to get ready. We had fought about getting dressed that morning (me making him, not the other way round). So I wasn't in the best moods before we left.
Boy3 had me, well, barking I suppose <Hangs head> at him to go faster all the way there.
Then with nursery in sight. Boy3 decided he was tired and had probably had enough of me verbally chiding him.
Boy3 stopped and refused to move any more.

I'm cringing at myself writing this you know... <Is cringy>

I freaked.
I can't remember what I said. Just that I said a lot and was very cross. So cross people nearby started looking at us.
I remember their looks and it feeling horrid and weird. But their looks got into my head, even as I was still ballin out Boy3.
He started crying.

Yes. I suck I know.
To start with. I thought the strangers understood what was happening and why I was raging at this little boy. And I felt justified in what I was doing. But that stupid thought soon sodded off. As it should have. And was replaced with a much more sensible one.
They weren't looking on understanding what I was doing. They were looking on wondering what the smeg I was doing. And did they need to do anything about an adult that had clearly lost it.
Me.

Eventually I ran out of words and looked at what I had done.
Boy3 in tears. What a bully I was. I hugged him tight and said I was sorry. He was OK, but pretty shaken. His Dad had been pretty mean to him.
<Sad face>

Later Mrs. Amazing passed on what Boy3 had said to her about it all...

Boy3: 'He was just SOOO cross as me!!!'

Crap.
Now there's a memory that twists like a knife in my heart everytime I think it. Prat.
A Dad low.

<Claps> RIGHT! You've seen enough!!! Field trip over!
Everyone back in the time machine <Claps more>
Put that down! ... Mint anyone?
<Hits big red button>
[Nothing happens]
<Kicks time machine>
[Everything goes all wobbly]
We're back! 2017!
Does anyone have a frequent time travel card that needs stamping?

But why do we fall over?
So we can learn to get back up (thank you Batman). I learnt from that horrible mistake.
That has never happened again. Maybe a few cross words sometimes about lateness.
But never that bad again.
I now have a little switch in my head that goes off. -A mate installed it, can’t go near electricity pylons now <Twitches>.
It's the 'You're getting too stressed about this' switch. And I know now when that switch goes off, I must stop. Being on time isn't that important. It's not worth upsetting anyone I love about it. Enemies fine obvs.
But loved ones. Nopey. Now. I just accept the lateness.
It is surprisingly liberating.

However Boy10 (who was Boy3 obvs.).
Gets stressed out when he is late. And it's all my fault. He's learnt that from me.
Which now I think about it, I got from my Father, sigh. <Actually sighs>
I do my best to teach Boy10 my new way. But undoing things like that can take a long time.
I'll keep working at it.

ANYhooooo...
<Brushes past shames off>

I was awoken by Mrs. Amazing calling me.
Apparently it was 8:10am and shouldn't we have left by now? Yes, yes we should have.
This particular morning me, Miss6 and BabyBoy3 all needed to leave, that's LEAVE, the house at 8:10am. Else Miss6 would be late for school and I'll be late for work.
It doesn't really matter if BabyBoy3 is late for nursery, but he may miss second breakfast, and that would be bad.
I leap out of bed.

(We did BabyBoy3 get a cloak from?
Mrs. Amazing: ‘It’s Miss6’s frozen cape’
Ahhh….

Put clothes on.
Raced downstairs and apologised to Mrs. Amazing for not getting up. As she had done everything this morning so far.
We somehow managed to leave at 8:25. In those fifteen minutes I managed to neck a cold tea, make Miss6's lunch, clean down the surfaces in the kitchen, flush the toilet that someone had left a poo in, cleared out BabyBoy3's potty which also had a poo in it (yuk), got myself ready (I clearly spend a lot of time on my appearance), said yo to the three ratbags, listened to two rocking tunes, and then forget my hat, despite the rain.
Mrs. Amazing very sweetly had Miss6 and BabyBoy3 ready by the door in hats and gloves ready to walk in the rain.
Lateness was seriously calling.

Lateness: 'Oy baldy!'
What? Oh look, sorry, but I am rushing... I can't talk!
Lateness: 'But I have free cake?!'
Really? … No no, I don't want to be late! No thanks!
Lateness: 'Bacon?'
... er... No!
Lateness: 'Bacon! Cake! A whole mountain of chocolate and a lovely cup of tea?'
... I do need another cuppa... <Walks over to lateness>
Lateness: 'SUCKER!' <Runs>
Damn it! <Is now late>

It was raining when we got outside.
No scooters due to rain. So they had to run. And I had to encourage them to do so. But without getting wound up and stressed out. Quite a challenge.
But I've learnt my lessons over the years and after the tenth time of asking BabyBoy3 to get a move on. We had only gone ten yards.
My switch flipped and I caught myself.
I just accepted we were going to be late. Miss6 for school - sorry Mrs. Amazing -
and me for work.
#SorryNotSorry.

And then Miss6 and BabyBoy3 amazed me.
The second I stopped berating them. The moment I chilled out and just let them be.
They solved the problem all on their own.
It started when Miss6 walked up behind BabyBoy3 and tapped him on the back...

Miss6: 'There! Now you've got your rocket pack on'
BabyBoy3: <Smiles>
BabyBoy3: <Quickly rushes round and taps Miss6's back> 'You got yure rocket pack on!'

And then they both whooshed off pretending to fly.
At full running speed. I joined in. Very happy with the amazing speed they suddenly had.
When Miss6 stopped me and pointed out that I didn't have my rocket pack on so I couldn't fly yet.
Are you kidding me?
But without a pause, Miss6 tapped my back and I was rocket pack ready.
Off we all flew!
Looking like nutters.

(YEAH!!! And I bet I looked exactly that cool too...)

For the rest of the journey they rocketed along.
Even up the little hill which normally knackers out BabyBoy3. Whoosh they went.
We did all have to stop for fuel a few times. Which involved someone else standing next to you, touching you and then saying glug-glug. There were oil stops too. But they were all brief.
But the speed they whooshed at was incredible. Miss6 and BabyBoy3, which is more surprising, rocketed (ran) all the way to nursery. That’s a long way for a three year old.
They went faster than they ever had on scooters or bikes.

Even I couldn't miss that lesson.
Right there in my face, all up in my grill. Being taught to me by Miss6 and BabyBoy3 and all their years of experience. You want kids to move faster?
Let them put on their imaginary rocket packs! And whoosh!
Oh! And stop being a stressy twatonk.
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