After the Un-Wrapping...

How was your Christmas?

Good? I hope so.

<Hugs you anyway>

Last night was the first night, in probably a week, I went to bed sober.

It’s funny how getting whammed having the odd drinky is totally acceptable at Christmas time. 

And totally awesome as well.

I've also eaten far far far too much cheese.

That’s strange too. In what way does eating more aged dairy products symbolise Christmas? The best kind of way. Who cares! In our cheese world it does. Team Parents (yay!) stocked the fridge up with many lovely different types of cheese and we splurged on crackers. Not just Jacobs crackers as per normal. No no.

We had Jacobs Crackers variety box. Twice. <Drools>

#LivingTheDream

BabyBoy1 loved the extra cheese in the house.

He has been sneaking into the fridge a lot and coming out with cheese. Which is fine really, although I am not totally happy sharing. It's mostly good for him.

He’s also leant that things that look coins, probably have chocolate in them. Which does feel like a choking incident waiting to happen. But hey! it’s Christmas. 

I assume he can tell the difference between coins that bend in his mouth and taste of chocolate, and well, real coins. Real coins that, so far, have no use in his wonderful world.

If only he knew that you could trade normal coins for the chocolate ones.

BabyBoy1 was given a brilliant present.

Auntie-Amazing took a Pinterest idea and made it real. Yes I KNOW! It can be done! 

She actually made something from Pinterest in real life!

She’s magic!

(We all want one... Even the Cat...)

Basically Auntie-Amazing has given BabyBoy1 a Batmobile.

Not a fun little car that looks cute, not the Mickey Mehmeh car, a bloody Batmobile.

He's only one and already has a Batmobile. That's one of my life goals he has already checked off. Brilliant! The jammie smegger.

Without the stickers it would just be a black car. Covered in Bat stickers makes it at least a Millennium Falcon on ‘Awesome-O-Tron’. (Tron is on it about 15th).

Even better though was BabyBoy1’s reaction.

He is only just getting the hang on Christmas, the unwrapping, the bizarre yet brilliant influx of new toys and stuff, the cheese, chocolate for breakfast, constantly drunk parents.

BabyBoy1’s face as he realised the car was his. Just his. For him.

Was amazing...

‘Uh Uh UHHH’ (* ‘That’s AWESOME! WANT!’)

‘CAR CAR CAR UH UHHH UHHH’ (* ‘WANT MINE! Batmobile’)

<Moves towards car>

Dude, it’s yours

<Gives me disbelieving look>

<Opens the door for him>

<Tiny eyes light up>

‘... Mine?’ (* ‘I now claim this as mine, forever… come near... you die!’)

Dude, it’s all yours

<Holds back Boy8 and Miss4 from having a go>

<BabyBoy1 sits in his car grinning>

‘Mine?’ (* ‘Seriously mine? For keeps?’)

<All the adults nod>

<Biggest grin ever from BabyBoy1>

BabyBoy1 sat in his car for the next three hours.

He unwrapped presents in it, he ate in it. He only got out to walk around it, and then climb back in it. He wouldn't let go without some serious force as he was removed to have a nap. When he woke he climbed straight back in.

I think the other children had one or two goes. But BabyBoy1 had to be distracted by something else shinny. And then when he noticed he was straight over, pushing, nicely at least, anyone out of his car.

Great present.

Miss4 got the yellow Lego snowflake she had asked for.

Santa came up trumps. Somehow he managed to track down a single yellow snowflakes for her. I heard rumours he had to get it from a French eBay site at a horrible mark-up, because it's really hard to find just one yellow snowflake, on it's own, at Christmas time. <Grumbles>

Still she loves it. And she is chuffed to bits that Santa found it and brought it just for her. That's gotta be worth any swine eBay mark-up. 

Santa put it in a jewellery box as well, just to make it extra special.

Good work Santa.

Good expensive choice.

(The fireplace I feel adds the required gravitas…)

Santa didn't let Boy8 down either.

Although not quite how Boy8 had thought it would happen. Boy8 had asked for two (yes two) dwarf hamsters from the big fella. FC. Santa. 

So on the day Boy8 unwrapped a brilliant hamster cage, with hamster food, hamster water bottle, hamster wheel, average sawdust. Everything you could want to start looking after your very first hamster. Everything... except an actual hamster.

But don’t fear. You don’t get to be Santa just because Team Parents (yay!) got whammed one night, some eight years. No no.

Santa clearly had thought about it. He had written a letter. A nice letter saying that ONE hamster was probably the way to go, and not the dwarf one’s either.

Santa had done his research as the pet shop people told me the same when I asked too. Funny that. How does Santa find time for all this stuff and research? Probably has a Elf that’s an Hamster expert I reckon.

Yesterday me and Boy8 went and got his hamster.

Santa had also given Boy8 a voucher for the hamster, so there was no messy money situation going on...

Pet Shop Girl: That’ll be £10

Cool…. Hang on…

<Dumps huge handful of change on the table>

<Takes back penknife, memory sticks, lighters, gum and mag-light>

<Sorts though pennies>

I've got £7.43? That enough? <Flutters eye lids>

Pet Shop Girl: Close… But no

Try this card

<Tries card>

Pet Shop Girl: It’s only good for £1.22

Really? OK. Split it on this one as well…

Pet Shop Girl: 25p on that one....

OK OK <Lays out another seven cards>

Please start with the Darth Vader card, then the Samurai Jack card, R2-D2 card ... and end with the Captain Barnacles card here <Points>

<Gets a look from the girl>

<Smiles back and dies a little inside as aware is spoiling magical moment for Boy8>

Pet Shop Girl: Your grand total comes to £9.87… You're still short

Who are you calling short?

Er… Boy8… You got any cash?

REALLY? This is the last time though… You still owe me £3

Yes, yes, all right I'm good for it, don't go on…

<Boy8 pulls out wallet stuffed with notes>

Can you change a £50?

Boy8 is very happy with his hamster.

Team Parents (yay!) can tell. We are his parents and we can read that little boy like a book. Every nuance, every words he says, how he walks, how he holds himself, we have seen him grow from nothing to Boy8 he is. We process and understand his every movement and interpret it's meaning. 

It’s really a special, mystical, magical parent thing.

Oh and he drew this...

(We spend many hours deciphering this… Subtle as it is...)

Then the hamster training began.

We want Boy8 to be able to handle the hamster brilliantly. Of course.

Don’t want him scared of being bitten. I seem to recall being bitten by my hamsters when I was young and not liking it very much. I think I got good enough to be able to handle my hamster. But I am not 100% sure about it. I was probably a bit wussy about it to be honest. But I did have three of the little furry dudes, so I bet I did man up eventually. I didn't.

So I sat down with Boy8, with Miss4 watching, and took our time getting to know the hamster. I read up on how to do it safely. And had received advice from the other lovely lady at the Pet shop.

I was one with the force knowledge.

Boy8 was bitten straight away.

Blood! A proper pin prick on his finger.

I could see in his little gangly eyes that this was a pivotal point in his hamster training and I needed to be strong for him.

It’s fine, don’t worry about it

He’s just getting to know you

MAN UP

It’s still bleeding! <Is close to tears staring at finger>

Yeah it’ll do that, just suck your finger…

Watch me do it...

I got bitten straight away.

Internally I thought OW! And then my but that is bleeding a lot. 

I gave the hamster a bit of a look. But then I noticed something.

The look of tears in Boy8’s eyes had gone. He was laughing at me.

Watching me get bitten, just like he had, was the exact remedy he needed.

It seems that if his Dad (me) can get bitten as well, then it’s nothing he is doing wrong. My similar failure absolved his. I am so glad.

This all occurred to me whilst I sat there sucking my finger and crying.

Boy8 shock off the agonising pain and tried again.

#BloodyProud

But I was even more proud when he got bit again, and he just laughed it off.

He and his hamster are going to get on just fine, I am sure of it.

He’s been bitten, twice!, and is still going back for more.

Hell he'll be fine for love too.

Miss4 however.

Having watched me and Boy8 get bitten thrice (combined), vowed clearly and loudly never to go near the fluffy dude ever. She crossed her heart and everything.

She’s a smart cookie that one.

Last night I saved Boy8's life

Last night I saved Boy8's life.

In a totally metaphorical way.

We weren't out SuperHeroing (real word) and had finally got trapped by our evil nemesis Dr. TwatPants, who had devised a diabolical and brilliant trap for us both, whereby we ended up locked in a room with an enormous bomb...

Oooo shiiiiiiit

Don't touch anything BatBoy, we need to be very careful...

'OK' <Presses big red 'NOW DIE' button>

<Bomb counter changes to 5 seconds and starts ticking down>

Oh for Westlife sake

What did I just say?

#4 Seconds#

'I didn't do it!'

Really? Not you?

'You're always blaming me'

#3 seconds#

Fine. The button pressed itself and now we are both going to die

'Yes'

<Gives BatBoy a look>

'Buttons do that sometimes...'

#2 seconds#

<Gives BatBoy another look>

<Sighs and fights off growing anger>

'Vicrum at school says buttons often...'

Oh shush

Grab here <Pulls brilliant winch thingy out of belt, attaches BatBoy to self>

#1 second#

<Runs for the window and dives out>

BOOM <Huge explosion>

<Lands safely with BatBoy, both showered in glass>

That isn't what happened, this time.

I got home from work to calm and peace and serenity. As I walked up to the house I could see them all in the sitting room (where we sit), calmly watching cartoons and eating their brupper cereal.

Ah what a nice sight to come home to after a long hard day. Everyone happy and calm. Ahhhh.

However as I walk through the door Mrs. Amazing shatters that illusion and says that this is a rare moment of calm in a storm of bad tempers and strops, all three of them have been little sods troublesome.

BabyBoy1 is teething (again), a constant stream of slobber is leaving his mouth. Which makes him a bit whiny, clinging and prone to grumps.

Miss4 had her last day of nursery and had to say goodbye to lots of people. Emotionally she is wiped out and exhausted.

And Boy8 should be well rested from his summer holidays, but he isn't. He still insists on getting up early every morning, not matter how late we let him stay up and he's been been at Multi-sports (which is an utterly rubbish name, 'MegaSport Explosion YEAH!' would be way better) and is physically exhausted.

What sports did you do at multi-sports? <Hoping for Cricket, Rugby, Tennis, Hockey, Lacrosse etc... the cool sports>

'We did football first, then football outside, then lunch, football inside as it was raining, and then we finished with Dodge ball'

That's cool Multi-sports my hairy butt

(The slobber, poor little dude)

As we get ready for bed, I want to know what everyone has done, and everyone wants to tell me about it at the same time. There's tears from 3 out of 5 of us. There's no need to say who.

Boy8 does not behave well and barely escapes being given the riot act by Mrs. Amazing as she's had enough of him today. We opt for early bedtime all round because we want them to naff off they all need it. Bless.

We rotate the kids for bedtime and it’s Mrs. Amazing’s turn to tackle, take on, commences battle with Miss4 for bedtime.

But as they leave she again points out that Boy8 is very much on, and at the top of, her pissed off with naughty list.

Me and BabyBoy1 have a lovely time getting ready for bed.. He tries to eat the toothbrush we laugh, he tries to eat the books, we laugh. All good fun. He cries a bit when he is put down to sleep, but I'm a third time Dad and I just pat his tummy and wish him a good night, and leave.

He's asleep in 2 mins. (+1 Dad point)

Which leaves me just Boy8 to get to bed.

Boy8 picks something new to watch which is awful, a show about teen dancers and the pressures and scrapes they get into, in their bizarre dance-off world. I think it was meant to be fun and cool.

I hated it on so many levels.

Did you ‘like’ that?

'Naaa, that was rubbish'

OH THANK YOU! I was worried I was going to watch that awful crap for the next few months, and have to pretend the PVR mysteriously keep on failing for that one show.

He pleads for one more cartoon before bed. He's got time. But it must be winding down and going to bed appropriate. He picks one we've seen twenty billion times. Which is fine, he'll chill, I can get my phone out and start playing some very important, life changing, earth critical, stupid games.

I notice he is scratching his foot and tell him to stop. He tends to scratch too hard and leaves marks. I friendlily suggest he stops in a very mature and grown up manner.

<Flicks offending hand>

'Owww!!!'

My subtle message is absorbed and I go back to my phone. But now I've got guilt that actually I should be talking to this little boy sat next to me and not playing on my phone.

He's sat in his Bat jammies (awesome), hair's all messy, looking gangly. He's still so incredibly young and beautiful, yep beautiful (Mother's side).

I want to talk with him and see how his day was, to make the most of the few hours I get to see him a day. My phone can wait, those games can wait.

I put my phone down and turn to him and notice he is still scratching his foot.

You're still scratching

Boy8 looks down and suddenly he tenses up. He looks really worried.

What have you done?

He shows me his foot, blood is escaping from his young and beautiful skin.

Why did you do that?

You bloody plonker rodney!

He shrugs, but I know there's more going on here. A bit of blood is normally pretty hilarious for us. Boy8 seems scared of something.

What else is wrong?

Boy8 moves his foot aside and there in the middle of the new(ish) sofa is a very clear puddle of blood.

Oh no dude... What have you done?

Boy8 knows he is now in lot of trouble, he is going to die. Bye bye tele, bye bye computers, bye bye Lego, bye bye sweets. This is very bad and he knows it.

Mrs. Amazing has always made it very clear that the sofa is to remain nice forever, and woe betide anyone that sullies her the sofa. I eat on the floor instead it’s safer.

I see it that I have three ways to react:

a) Let rip. Go from calm to bloody furious in a skip of a heart beat and make it very VERY CLEAR I AM FURIOUS! Tempting as always.

b) Tell on him. Yep, go get Mrs. Amazing and spill
Look what Boy8 has done <Points>

'Snitch'

I can live with that - Booty principle

<Looks blank>

I'll explain when you're ninety older

Mrs. Amazing: 'Why didn't you stop him?'

I was playing on my phone

I was helping a disabled, pregnant, one armed, blind, slammin' hot- woman, carrying another child, across the road

<Realises lie is obvious and runs like the wind>

c) Be calm and quiet (heh heh)

I act like he's just crashed the car through the house, destroyed everything, and then knocked over my Millennium Falcon, denting a tiny part of it, I weep uncontrollably.

I act as though he's been expelled from school for locking all the teachers in a cupboard and making them recite times tables all day.

I act as though he's come home with Bieber's Greatest Hits Album (One track, a cover, duet, his vocal is faded out a lot) and he wasn't planning to use it as bird scarer or a coaster. He was going to play it.

I act as though what he has done is so bad there's no need for yelling or shouting or punishments.

I take him from ‘Local Emotional Court’ all the way up to ‘Supreme Adult Calm Court’ (if you were looking for a metaphor for this).

My parents did it to me when I was young. It's really weird and unsettling, and somehow really effective. As a child in the docks, I expected an emotional shouty response, but I got calm and quiet. Urhghg... It’s horrible.

I explain what he has done and why it was bad. Calmly and quietly.

I flick the tele off mid cartoon. Boy8 doesn't even say a word.

I clean him up and get all the blood off his foot. The wound is tiny, he's fine. All with minimal talking and calmly.

Then I get the 1001 out and get to work. Bloody blood.

(1001 stopping my house from stinking and being mucky for 8 years)

It takes two full cleans with the 1001, which I make Boy8 watch, silently. I didn't rush. But the blood comes out of the sofa nicely and it looks clean.

He's put to bed quickly and when he goes to complain about the short bedtime story, I point out that I haven't told Mrs. Amazing about the blood yet. He decides to go straight to sleep without any fuss. Good choice.

Later Mrs. Amazing comes downstairs.

Miss4 was particularly troublesome and Mrs. Amazing looks knackered and annoyed. I imagine hearing that Boy8 got blood on the sofa may be the final straw and fear for his safety.

I shuffle my bum over the stain area so she won't notice the wet bit.

Eew wet bum!

Mrs. Amazing picks up the 1001 that's still on the table. Damn it, wet bum for nothing.

'What did he do?'

I'll tell you after we eat

'No, tell me now, please, what did he do? What did you have to clean?'

Er... <Leaves room>

<Follows me>

'What did he do? Tell me?’'

<Make lots of noise getting out pots and pans>

Pardon?

'What...' <BANG> '... did...' <CRASH> <CRASH>

<Flicks on loud music>

'... he ...'

Pardon? <BANG> <BANG> <BANG>

<Led Zeppelin starts and I sing along loudly>

'.. do?' <BANG>

'Fine... Tell me after we eat..'

<Passes large wine>

And that's how I saved Boy8's life.

(I did my nails special-like for the photo)