Her and His First Day Back...

Summer holidays done.

And they have had a lovely time (the teachers children).

I've mostly been working. But I took a few days off to play, which was brilliant fun.

But as the UK crapy-crap weather has moved in once more.

It must be time to go back to school.

BabyBoy3 was not keen.

He's going back to nursery. He was not keen the night before when we broke the news.

Every time we told him he...

BabyBoy3: 'NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!'

Go on! It’ll be fun!

BabyBoy3: 'Not nursery! I don't WANT TO GO!!!!'

BabyBoy3: <Runs and hides badly>

(Me when younger...  and hand drawn...)

Mrs. Amazing had a word with him.

Explained that Miss6 and Boy10 were going back to school as well. So there wouldn't be anyone to play with at home. Which he loved. He really loved having his brother and sister at home to play with.

And what we told him was only a tiny lie. As Boy10 isn't starting school until a day after, but BabyBoy3 doesn't need to know that.

And Boy10 needs to stop pointing out that his isn't going back for another day, as it's totes not helping. <Does frowny face>

Still BabyBoy3 seemed in good spirits when I finally fell out of bed this morning...

Urghhhh... Morning...

What time is it? <Is blinking a lot> <Scratches tummy in a Dad way>

Mrs. Amazing: 'Four in the afternoon...'

WHAT! SHIII...

Mrs. Amazing: 'Only joking! It's half seven. You've thirty minutes before you and BabyBoy3 need to leave'

<Downs cuppa whilst making another>

Right...

And so the logistical problems of three children start.

Three children. Two parents. Three different destinations.

Wish us luck.

The plan is simple.

I'll run / scoot BabyBoy3 to nursery. Then walk run as fast as I can back.

So Mrs. Amazing can then drive Boy10 over to grannies.

Then when Mrs. Amazing gets back. Team Parent (yay!) in all there glory. Will walk Miss6 to school on her first day back.

Bonza.

BabyBoy3 is on the edge.

I can tell straight away. Which means getting him into his nursery uniform (yes we have those in the UK, it's awesome paying for them too) is going to go one of two ways.

Either a pitched bloody battle. With both of us in tears at the end. Me nursing my battered man parts from waywards kicks. BabyBoy3 in tears trying, but failing, to rip his nursery jumper off his head. Trousers already off and bare bum wiggling about.

Or...

And this is the option I really want to go with. I have lots of fun and giggling and chasing BabyBoy3 about the house.

Which seems the obvious choice. But it will come with a cost.

If every time I need him to get dressed I have to chase him about the house. That will get old pretty quickly for everyone. It cannot be the norm.

As getting up at 4am just to get him dressed does not appeal.

So whilst the running and chasing is really fun.

It needs to be a one off.

And this is that one off (yay!).

I rugby tackle him onto my bed. He's already gigging. And whilst he scrambles away, I get his pyjama bottoms and pants (underpants) off.

I watch a naked little bottom run out of my room to hide.

BabyBoy3 knows the rules of this game.

For every finding and wrestling at least one piece of clothing is removed or put on.

There has to be progress.

I find him in Boy10's room.

Hidden under the duvet. Giggling.

Boy10 is guarding BabyBoy3 and starts hitting me with a pillow...

Stop that!

Boy10: 'No!' <Hitty hit hit>

Don't you have to get ready or something?

Boy10: 'I am ready!' <Hitty hit hit, HIT HIT>

I will shove this pillow up your bum if you do that again Can you stop please? <Looks tired and a bit knackered>

I get a few moments not being hit with a pillow.

To ferret BabyBoy3 out of the duvet and manage to shove some nursery shorts on him. Lots of giggling

<Is hit by pillow a lot>

Do you want to make it to eleven? Dude! Dude! Stop...

<Just runs>

Boy10: 'Champion!!!' <Does victory dance>

I then lose BabyBoy3 for a bit.

And whilst I am hunting him upstairs. Boy10 and BabyBoy3 sneak downstairs to watch some tele. BabyBoy3 only half dressed.

I find them both zoned into the tele watching Toy Story 3. Which you would think was OK.

… (You would... <tuts>)

Except Toys 3 has a scene in it where the toys are slowing being drag into a blazing inferno of flames and are clearly going to die. Boy10 is fine with it. BabyBoy3 maybe not so much.

And considering Miss6's reaction yesterday to the exact same scene (tears, and needed a good long hugging). Toy Story 3 is turned off.

Boy10 can't understand what the problem is...

Boy10: 'It's TOY STORY of course it's fine for BabyBoy3'

Off it goes somethemore nonetheless...

(BabyBoy3: ‘Dad? What’s happening’

<Is not looking> I DON’T KNOW!!! Boy10 what is happening, are they safe yet?

Boy10: ‘Yeah they’re safe now…’

<Looks out from behind BabyBoy3> ARHGH NO THEY’RE NOT!

THEY’RE HOLDING HANDS!

Boy10: <Chuckles>

BabyBoy3 is fine.

Not sure he understood what he was watching. And I seize my moment.

Whilst he is sat on the sofa wondering what will come on tele next.

I leap on him and the pyjama top is off, nursery vest is on.

And done. Dressed for nursery.

<Wipes brow>

And then we are off.

Me jogging beside BabyBoy3. Who has a new trick on his scooter. He surfs (has both feet on at once). I am impressed. And we have a lovely scoot.

We meet the lovely nursery lady the door and all is fine.

Until suddenly BabyBoy3 realises what is going on. And he suddenly looks lost.

And alone.

I almost rip BabyBoy3 out of her arms.

And take him home again. But I don't. You know. Work and stuff.

<Sighs>

I wave his little confused 'I wanna stay with you' face goodbye. The nursery lady senses tears are on the way and whisks him out of sight.

<Deep little heart being torn sigh>

My little dude... <Weeps on the inside>

(Don't worry, I saw him at lunch, he was fine and had great fun at nursery).

(I was also fine after a while).

Then I walk leg it back home for Miss6.

Miss6 scoots in. Team Parent (yay!) walk beside her.

It's very fun and jolly until we get to her new playground.

Each year in her school has their own area. There is only one playground at the front of the school and that is for the eldest children in the school.

Which Miss6 now is.

As we walk in. I nearly stumble and fall over. As my brain suddenly realised she was now in the final year at this school. I am not ready for her to grown up.

For a brief most the rest of my body forgot what the hell it was doing. I do a quick step, stutter, and recover.

But it’s OK. No one noticed.

Phew. Don't want a Dad to be showing emotion.  No no. That would never do.

Stupid society. <Grumbles>

Miss6 has written little notes for her best friends.

Which they are delighted with and they are soon off playing. Nattering away.

The parents all hang about outside the new classroom. Peering in every now and then, being nosy. Me too.

It's really nice to see everyone. And soon the parents are nattering as much as the children. Telling their summer holiday stories. With less running about.

And then without warning Miss6's classroom door opens…

Miss6: 'Daddy my stuff! Quickly!’

Miss6 is first in line.

She can be first into the new classroom. And she really wants that.

I am holding her P.E. kit, her book bag, and water bottle.

Suddenly under huge pressure I feel like I am playing sport again. And the ball has come to me. And I need to pass it on very quickly. Without fumbling it. OH NO!

OH BACON THE PRESSURE!

I do manage to pass three items to Miss6 without messing it right up.

Without problem. PHEWY. And Miss6 races into her new classroom.

Sits down on the floor where she was told to sit.

And she's gone...

Mrs. Amazing and I exchange looks.

That all happened a bit quickly. There's no way we can go into the classroom now. The teacher is wisely, and rightly, guarding the door.

And Miss6 is fine. Happy to be back at school.

Excited to be back. Clearly.

Good we suppose.

Still... A few goodbye hugs and kisses would have been nice.

At least a wave would have been nice…

<Doesn't weep, is right hard about it until later>

Miss6: <Waves to us both>

<Team Parent wave back, grateful for the wave>

Team Parent (yay!) head off to our resective workplaces.

Emotionally worn out for the day, already.

Still wanting a hug.

X

(I can see the future in this… Poor Boy10...)

The 3.2 Stages of Chase

Stage 1: Sweet lovely pretend chase - Hurts the knees

It's not really chase is it. Hence the pretend bit.

BabyBoy1 races off on all fours as fast as he can. He loves chase. Heaven knows why, he’s never gonna win, in fact his favourite bit is when I catch him and wrestle him to the floor. 

1, 2 ,3, PIN!

<Does victory dance>

It’s a lot of attention though, and he likes that.

The gulf between BabyBoy1’s speed and mine is because I'm a competitive sod of the size of my limbs, yes all of them are enormous. 

All of them <Shakes massive fist>

Even with my old man aching knees (ooooo, ahhhhh) and body, which is way too big for crawling, I still easily beat BabyBoy1 from one side of the room to the other. With time to spare.

BabyBoy1 spins little hands and feet round like a gecko with its tail on fire, making a terrific racket.

It’s brilliant. He’s brilliant.

To announce the commencement of a chase. I bang my ring on the floor (yes, ring).

I bang my wedding ring, which is on my hand, my hand which is on the floor as I am crawling, on the floor, to make a noise (everyone clear?).

BabyBoy1 has quickly learnt what he needs to do when this happens:

a) Work out where Dad is

b) Crawl-it in the opposite direction as fast as he can

c) Get caught and tickled

Great fun. We all have a laugh, my knees end up sore, but it's worth it.

(No, no the other way… away from me)

Stage 2: Delightful giggling chase - Good fun, with a bit of danger and a high injury rate.

Miss4 loves a chase. I don’t think it’s the competitive element for her. I just think she likes being chased. Which does have me wondering if that’s a girl thing, as I spent many a lunch time in playgrounds (as a child, obv.) chasing girls. Who, I think, wanted to be chased. I may check that…

Anyway, maybe that’s why Miss4 likes chase. Or maybe it’s just a game Miss4 knows and enjoys. Meh, who knows.

Chase with Miss4 normally starts spontaneously, like this:

Miss4 come here

<Miss4 giggles and runs off>

We don’t really have time… Oh fine…

<Stretches, gives chase>

Miss4 runs at almost 2 meters away and then just bobs there, whilst I arms wide like an idiot giant human pincher try and grab her.

Giggles pour out of her each time I carefully miss grabbing her. I start laughing, she manages to giggle harder and it goes really nicely and is great fun until:

a) I finally catch her. Mentally noting to tell work I was late due to traffic, not an elusive 4 year old.

b) She smacks into something. Head first, face first, trips over her own feet, doesn't see the enormous table or simply just manages to fall down. Still giggling.

c) I hurt myself chasing because I forget I am a fully grown (I am) man (still am) and, as yet, cannot pass through solid objects, like tables, doors, walls or any of the other children. Or I trip on a toy.

Great fun with lovely giggling. Best kind of chase.

(Damn those bouncy balls...)

Stage 3: Chase to catch the sod - Exhausting and annoying

Chase with Boy8 is no longer a lovely sweet game. Or giggling fun. It’s ... well it's grown up a fair bit. It's now one of two things:

3.1. Pure bloody competition to be the fastest in the house.

It’s an alpha male attack. It is, you ask Boy8 who is the fastest at school. He will be able to tell you everyone’s racing merits and the order they finish in a sprint race. It’s important to him, it’s how the boys measure up (for now).

So when he finally beats me it will be the first nail in my replacement coffin for sure. But it is not this day… it is not this year… oh no...

I like to think I am pretty fit, I exercise. But I can't really run for toffee. (See here for proof)

The funny things is I would run for toffee.

I’d run really fast for toffee. If they made toffee Olympic medals I would so be there. Sod gold, I want toffee or fudge... mmm... Fudge… I want fudge from here 

#mmm #teethhurting #worthit

Anyhoo…

My point is when we chase/race there is always pride at stake. Mine.

So far, except for a few times when Boy8 cheated, when I clearly wasn't ready and that time my leg hurt lots, Boy8 has not managed to beat me.

But he will, it’s definitely coming… (I may have to retire all physical activity around that time).

3.2. Catch the sod bugger

This version of chase is not so fun (for me). This version occurs when he has been naughty and I need him right in front of me to shout at him to discuss my feelings, and he’s legged it. At full speed.

And it normally involves a table large enough I can't climb over it.

(Quite a crowd turned up to watch)

It starts like this:

Come HERE right now!

'No'

NOW!

'No' <Legs it behind table, out of reach>

And suddenly, without warning, I've made the decision that I need to chase him.

I could have just let him go and show him I am above this situation, me being the grown up all wise and proud. I could just sit down and read, write a haiku, pick my nose, and wait until he is close enough to grab realises his folly.

<Shakes enormous paper>

So Boy8… You've finally come to your senses at last

'Yes father. You were right'

'Cuff me and take me away, I deserve it. I was a cad, a bounder'

<puffs on pipe>

I... I am proud of you Boy8. So very proud.

<Both exchange looks of mutual respect in a very British manner>

See you at tiffin

<Ignores flames from newspaper as pipe ash catches>

Instead though, I chase him around the table.

I decide in the few milliseconds I spend thinking on it, that the best way to teach him not run away from me when he's in trouble, is to chase him.

I am a lemon.

Boy8 knows he is in trouble. It's in his eyes, they are full dilated, full of fire and excitement. He's a bit scared but loving being naughty at the same time. Fair enough.

He also knows that as long as the table is between us, I cannot grab him.

I lunge one way. He goes the other.

I talk to distract him and then lunge. He's 8, he plays 'it' at school regularly, he knows all the tricks.

I pull out a few chairs behind him as I chase, hoping it will slow him down on the next time round.

It utterly backfires, as Boy8 is small and agile.

Me? I'm a big lumbering giant.

The chairs are a huge obstacle to me and any ground I may have made on him, is lost as I shove the chairs out of the way. Banging my shins and knees. Ow ow!

I realise I am panting as well.

Boy8 looks likes he could do this all day.

I doubt I could.

Eventually my anger and fury loop around on themselves and I explode.

The anger cancels itself out as I realise the ridiculousness of the situation I have put myself in.

I sit down and stop playing chase.

Wary of a trick, Boy8 is still hopping about the other side of the table.

I take some deep breaths and calm myself down.

Then the magic happens.

Then the thing I wanted to happen so much, happens all on it's own accord and I can only sit there feeling like a huge bit of a prat.

'Sorry Daddy'

<Ruffles Boy8's hair>

I explain what he did wrong. Why he shouldn't run away and why it made me mad.

I also apologise for chasing him and getting cross, then we hug it out.

Still a little out of breath I notice that there is at least one bead of sweat on his brow. Well at least he had to try a bit.

Let's pretend none of this ever happened... and not tell your mother so I don't have to explain why I thought chasing you around the table was a good idea.
'Deal'

Chocolate milk?

'Beer?'

Good idea!

<Boy8 smiles>

For me... Not you!

<Boy8 stops smiling>