The First (of probably many) Betrayal...

I had a day off.

It's summer holidays so all three monkeys children are home with me.

And after a shouting and arguing rocky start with Boy10.

It was breakfast time...

Who wants pancakes?

BabyBoy3: 'ME!'

<Throws tiny pancakes>

Miss6: 'MEMEMEMEME!'

<Throws medium sized pancakes>

Boy10: <Silence>

Pancakes dude?

Boy10: <Minimal reluctant nod>

<Throws large sized pancake>

Sorry! My bad!

Boy10: <Peels pancake off face>

Here's another!

<Throws large sized pancake>

(A small pancake I made that went AWESOME!)

(And can do the the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs...)

All three of them fed.

Water nicely offered and watched until consumed. <Shakes fist>

And they were free to leave the breakfast table and off they all departed.

Boy10 to the computer to play his favourite game. As usual Boy10 checks with me before he goes onto the computer. Because that’s the rule.

I spend some time umming and arring because I am pirate wondering how I can say no whilst giving Boy10 something more constructive to do.

But I'm short of ideas today and have some work I want to do in the garden.

So Boy10 is told he has an hour to play then come help me in the garden.

I time him.

Using the oven. Which is the all powerful timing device in our house.

Not our phones. The oven. It's central and easy to set. Bonza.

I set an hour assuming Miss6 will come find me if I miss it and say 'The timers gone off Daddy'.

Love that girl.

BabyBoy3 and Miss6 need no such instruction.

As they are already playing with toys in the kitchen. A beautiful mad mix of fire engine and knights and dolly play. I've no idea what they are doing. But it works for them both.

And they are happy in their mad little worlds.

Which leave me the breakfast bomb site mess.

I remove all the Golden syrup from everything. Load the dishwasher. Pick the larger chunks of pancake off the floor.

Then quietly letting Miss6 and Boy10 know I will be outside.

I escape.

My plan is to build a garden feature.

A ramp. Made of mud. It's better than it sounds.

Imagine a grass covered hill and being able to run up and down it.

That's the mad great plan.

I get thirty minutes of peace.

Before there is a cry for help from Miss6. Can I get her some tape?

I stomp back in, remove muddy shoes, get tape. Check Boy10's timer. Grab some chocolate, for energy. A cuppa. Because tea is awesome. Shoes back on.

And out I go again.

Five minutes later.

Miss6 is stood in front of me. Asking if she can help.

I pass her the spade and sit down.

Of course she can. But I have to think of a job she can do.

It does occur to me she is still in her pyjamas. But I am sure she will be careful.

She is also wearing her best trainers.

But you know... careful.

BabyBoy3 arrives a few minutes later.

Also not dressed fully. He wants to help too. I set them both digging.

Which they love! But are rubbish at.

(Chief mud stomper hard at work)

About an hour goes by and nip back in.

And let Boy10 know his time is up.

And that I expect him to come out and join us.

And a few minutes later....

He does! <Faints>

Blinking at the light of day.

Hand still twitching from wanting to hold a mouse (computer one).

No grumping. No arguing. Outside. I must be doing something right.

He's still in jammies obv. Clearly they are all going to stay in jammies all day.

I’ve passed that phase of the day. I ain’t going back now. Everyone just needs to get over it.

Especially as BabyBoy3 is sat, jumping, laying about in the mud.

Miss6 is also sat in the mud digging away. All pretence of careful gone.

I plan to put a clothes wash on later (which I do do) (ha ha do-do!).

Now Boy10 has actual muscles.

Actual muscles that can help. So I tell him to get a real spade and get cracking. Which he does.

It's great! It's like my own small army of helpers.

DIG! DIG! MY PRETTIES! AHAHAAHAAAAA

And of course everyone loves digging.

I've music playing from my phone and for the next twenty minutes we all have a lovely time.

Digging away.

Then at some point Boy10 drifted off.

Inside. I was busy dealing with Miss6 who has got mud in her eye.

Well BabyBoy3 had thrown mud in her eye. As he got too enthusiastic with his spade. But she is fine. And a brave little soul that can pour water into her own eye.

Miss6 learnt this skill very recently when she broke a glow stick and it went in her eye. And I stood there explaining that no plaster, no cream, no tissue was going to help. Only water in the eye will help. And yes if we went to the docs they would do and say the same.

And whilst I felt a bit mean at the time, she can now rinse her own eye.

And because the glow goo had stung. Miss6 had learnt first hand why you wash out your eye.

Mud cleaned out. Brave trooper.

Back to BabyBoy3 and a quick word about throwing mud.

Don't throw mud!

BabyBoy3: 'Thorry Daddy...' <Sad little face>

<Prompting voice> And…

BabyBoy3: 'Thorry Miss6...' <Gives Miss6 cute as hell hug>

Good boy <Buys him a present>

(<Is shocked> Did you throw all this mud BabyBoy3?...

BabyBoy3: <Little nod>

Heck, I'm not even mad, that's amazing!)

An year hour later.

I realise Boy10 didn’t come back. So I decide I better check on him.

I am not worried about him at all. He's ten, it's summer hols, he can do what he likes. Ish.

He has my trust. He won't be doing anything dangerous. He would ask before doing anything dangerous I am sure. So I don't miss out.

Like I say. He has my trust.

I would just like to know where he is. See if he wants to join us again.

I pop inside.

OW!

Boy10? Dude?

Where are you? Come play?

Duuuuuuuuuu... <Is shocked to silence>

I find Boy10.

Headphones on. Which is why he didn't hear me.

On the computer.

The computer he isn't allowed on unless he asks. Always. Everytime.

On the computer that he was allowed on earlier for a limited time, but is not allowed back on until later.

On the computer.

<Fumes>

He notices me and his reaction speaks volumes.

He jumps a little and whips his headphones off and instantly says he's sorry.

I give him my 'I am seriously chanked-off with you right now, and you've been caught red handed' look. You'll have to imagine it.

I pause before saying anything so I don't just shout at him.

I manage to calmly tell him I am disappointed and not very happy.

He runs.

Up to his room.

Which is a bit annoying as I can't send him to his room now. I suppose I could go get him, bring him down stairs, and then send him to his room.

But seems a bit silly. Really I want him to join us all in the garden. Digging fun.

But as I stand there thinking. I realise I am pretty miffed at him. And hurt.

I’m hurt because I feel betrayed. I trusted him.

I am feeling actual betrayal of my trust.

How very annoying.

BabyBoy3 and Miss6 are now bored of digging.

But that's OK it's seed throwing on the ground time. Something they can both do brilliantly.

But as I do this fun with the little loonies.

My head is still running over the betrayal.

It's bugging me.

I plan lots of harsh punishments for Boy10. I'll delete his saved games. I'll put a password on the computer so he can never use it again. I'll steal his teddy and hold it to ransom. I'll set fire to his bed.

But the little loonies keep me busy for a while. Until they give up on scattering seeds and just ditch the lot in one spot. And then saunter off.

Boy10 keeps a low profile until lunch time.

I'm still a bit annoyed so rather than cook twice to allow for Captain Fussy A.K.A. Boy10.

He can just have the same as us lot. The fussy smegger.

I knows it's childish and a little vindictive. But it makes me feel a million better.

Hungry Boy10 eventually appears. He asks if there is anything else to eat that he might like.

I'm respond honestly. No. As I didn't fancy cooking another meal for you, as you snuck on the computer without asking.

I am not very happy with you.

<Sticks tongue out at Boy10>

Boy10 takes his food.

And to be fair doesn't complain. He even tries the stuff he doesn't like.

He doesn't complain after his movie request for something other than Moana is met with a no. Boy10 clearly knows he is trouble.

And is doing his best to make amends.

(Don’t think you’ll get round me with really, really, tasty

looking chocolate cake… <Licks lips>

Boy10: <Walks away with cake>

LEAVE the cake!...)

Eventually he comes to ask me for something.

Bored of watching Moana for the billionth time. Looking a bit sheepish. I already know what he is going to ask. And frankly I admire his guts.

Can he go on the computer again?

HAAHAHAAHHAHAHAAHA!!! Oh mercy!

<Wipes away tear>

No.

Boy10 looks a little gutted. And is just about to walk off.

When I have an idea...

Tell you what...

How about you earn some time on the computer instead. Redeem yourself?

How's that sound?

Boy10: <Is suspicious, but spots the loop hole I am offering>

I've some jobs you could do. That would be a great help. You could earn time on the computer for each one you do… Deal?

Boy10: 'Deal'

Boy10: <As an afterthought> 'Thank you Daddy'

Yes-yes, I am the nice one... Right. There's plumbs that are rotting that need picking up.

The recycling. Your room makes me want to weep a little. Tidy it…

And there's more digging to do!!! <Is hopeful>

I write him a list of jobs.

Which Boy10 goes through and does well. And he gets to go on the computer later on.

Both of us happy with the situation.

And me? Well I'm very proud of myself for keeping my cool. For NOT handing out crazy punishments in the heat of battle. For handling the situation like the big boy I am.

Mrs. Amazing will be so proud...

[Later]

Mrs. Amazing: ‘Why are they all still in pyjamas?... Caked in mud?’

<Shrugs whilst sat on mud ramp>

Mrs. Amazing: ‘Are those Miss6's best trainers?’

Er... <Runs>

Will I ever fully trust Boy10 again, like before?

Probably... I hope so. I am sure I will. I forget lots of stuff.

I may just check on him a bit more often for a little while...

Boy10? Dude?

Where are you? Come play?

Duuuuuuuuuu... <Is shocked to silence>

Are you reading? Freely and without being made too?

<Faints>

Boy10: <Sarcastic and not at all worried about his Dad fainting>'Ha...ha...'

He really was reading.

A comic mind. But actual reading for pleasure.

Magic Parenting days.

<Does high-choir singing to make the moment more magical>

X

Another One Bites the Dust...

Or today we mourn the sad passing of Boy9's hamster.

Patch. For twas his name. Our second short-living hamster this year.

<Gives you a look and a sigh...>

However.

On a money-for-value Patch did a lot better than the last hamster. Patch’s predecessor lasted a poultry eighteen days. Patch managed a grand six or seven months. A lot better.

And that’s good from one point of view.

And not so good for Boy9 who had more time to get attached to the little fella.

I had been away for the weekend.

And had returned to find out the washing machine had decided to empty itself on the floor.

Which poor Mrs. Amazing had had had to clean up with all three children bugging her about.

And, once I had given all three kids some Dad playing time, a quiet request from Mrs. Amazing to """"""check"""""" on Patch.

Mrs. Amazing could not remember when he had last moved.

(So... How bad is the tiddly (utility) room?

Mrs. Amazing: ‘Pretty bad…’

Arghhh <Is swept off>

Oh.

Obv. a check like this needs to be done carefully and as secretly as possible. Any of children could notice and then ask questions. And then it’s being shouted around the house and any potential bad news is delivered badly.

Boy9 was upstairs so I nipped over to Patch's cage and performed the necessary check.

He was curled up asleep and quiet.

Too quiet...

I needed to be sure.

So I shoved the cage a few times. Classily obv.

No response from Patch and he's a light sleeper. BabyBoy2 wakes him pretty much every night with his ‘Nite ‘Atch’.

Last hamster-death there was denial from Boy9 about how dead the hamster actually was (think ‘Monty Python - Dead Parrot Sketch’). It was wishful thinking from Boy9. Sadly.

So I want to be totally sure.

I tried to undo the cage to get in. But it's awkward and I could hear Boy9 moving about upstairs. If he saw me ‘checking’, he'll have questions. He might even want to feed him.

That would be bad.

Short of time and needing a definate answer I give the cage a good hard medical shake.

Nothing from Patch.

Oh dear. Damn you Salazar <Shakes fist at the sky>

It's nearly bedtime.

Boy9 has been getting his jammies on. Which has taken ages, and involved making Miss5 cry (crocodile tears), some lightsaber practice and hanging about about with just a top on. Strange boy.

There is never a good time to tell someone their hamster is an ex-hamster. But I feel in the moment is the best way to go.

I check with Mrs. Amazing and she's cool with it happening now. We could wait until tomorrow, but I cannot see how that would help really.

Best relay news organically as it happens. No one wants to be the last to know.

I walk slowly upstairs to find Boy9 and tell him the bad news.

I expect tears.

I sit on his bed.

And let him natter away at me for a bit. He finally puts his jammy bottoms on and he's no longer half naked. It feels like the right time.

Dude... I just checked on Patch...

He stops bouncing around as he already knows where this is going. He’s learning quick.

His eyes go wide and he holds his breath.

What else would I be saying, sat on his bed, in my best bad-news delivering pose?...

Patch has started tap lessons... I KNOW!!!

Patch has managed to get a gun and is holding Mrs. Amazing to ransom. He wants sawdust, sunflower seeds and two thousand drachma...

You know how the Cat likes to eat small rodents?...

I was wearing DM's and showing Miss5 my ninja leaps, when Patch appeared beneath my feet... and <Does squishing noise>

I tell Boy9 Patch has died.

Probably in his sleep. We don't know why.

I can actually see Boy9 wrestling with his emotions. His smile starts to drop and his arms fall a bit at his side. The bravado and fun in my little boy drain away in about ten seconds.

Then he's got tears in his eyes and doesn't know what to do with himself.

I scoop him into my arms and sit with him on my lap, as he's to heavy to hold up anymore.

We hug it out for a good while and Boy9 has a bit of boo.

Fair enough.

I'm not quite sure what I said.

I said a lot though. I didn't go ‘Circle of Life’ this time, but it was still on that side of things. Things live, things die, that’s the short version of life. That kind of thing.

We all feel sad when they go. It's fine to feel sad.

I think I went with 'he didn’t last long because he burnt so brightly' as I could tell Boy9 didn't understand why he died quite so suddenly.

The burning brightly stuff at least made a bit of sense. As Patch was a very energetic hamster. And loved nothing more than running in his wheel whilst everyone wanted to sleep or watch tele. So much so that a piece of gaffing tape was left next to his wheel to shut it up for noise control.

Poor noisy, fluffy, little dude.

He was quite a weird hamster.

There was the crazy running for hours. Which he did so much he had to moved out of Boy9’s bedroom and downstairs. So Boy9 could fail to sleep.

He liked to stuff his metre long tunnel with sawdust every now and then. Really jam it up. Mainly when the Cat scared the crap out of him. And then he’ld empty the tunnel again later that day. Strange fella.

He escaped once and we found the Cat 'playing' with him. So a lucky hamster too.

He peed in his tunnel a lot. Which was annoying as the tunnel was full of air holes.

He bit me and Boy9 hard enough to draw blood.

And Boy9 (and me) had handled him enough that he would sit on our hands for a bit.

Good times.

Boy9 asks to see the late hamster.

We go look. Had Patch been on his back legs in the air. We would have skipped this. No need to give Boy9 nightmares. But as it was, Patch was curled up looking asleep.

I felt it would help Boy9 process his feelings. And as I already said, last time we did this Boy9 refused to believe the hamster was dead and I had to do more prodding.

Thankfully that wasn't needed this time.

Then we all sat to watch some cartoons.

Tears still in Boy9's eyes. I tell Miss5 the news too. She wants to see too. I'm not quite sure how she is going to take this. It’s not her hamster. But you never know…

We visit the deceased and I ask her how she feels.

She says sad. And then in the next breath she is showing me a new dance move / pose / attack.

I figure she's fine.

We don't tell Boy2.

As he won't really care. And it’s definitely not a good idea before putting a little one down for sleep.

This <Points> Is dead… <Does throat cutting action>

FOREVERRRRRRR! Night! <Runs>

(The rainbow unicorn is called Ubercorn, and he’s a disco

loving DJ that gives you geographic facts. Really. I swear todger...)

Boy9 has a few more tears whilst we all watch Go Jetters as a family (love that cartoon).

Then bedtime is pretty normal.

Mrs. Amazing: 'STAY IN BED! IT'S BED TIME! GO TO SLEEP!'

Miss5: 'NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!' <Starts kicking the wall>

Go brush your teeth!

Boy9: 'I have' <Shifty eyes>

I've sat here with you watching cartoons, you bloody haven't!

Boy9: 'Fine!' <Goes>

Boy9: <Returns three seconds later> 'Done them!'

You bloody haven't!

BabyBoy2: <From his cot, not sleeping> 'Ooh Eeh Ooh Ah Aah Ting Tang Walla Walla Bing etc...'

Much later.

As Team Parents (yay!) peel themselves off the sofa and stagger to bed. I have the very awesome idea of sorting out Patch’s funeral casket before the morning.

I don’t work very well in the morning. And picking a coffin appropriate cardboard box before the second cuppa has kicked in. Was well... traumatic last time.

I carefully pick one. A lightbulb box. Remove all the sellotape to aid with decomposing. Line it with toilet paper. Pop in Patch and some saw dust. Cover Patch with more loo roll.

And then because I don’t trust the Cat an inch. I put the cardboard box high out of reach in a cupboard.

Then I warn Mrs. Amazing what’s in the cupboard and in the box.

However funny it would definitely be. I don’t want Mrs. Amazing looking for light bulbs in the middle of the night and finding this box. Unless I can film it.

Team Parent (yay!) agree on a funeral the next morning and collapse into bed.

(I was quite proud of my efforts...)

Next morning.

I do the lunch boxes, tidy up a bit and then quietly head out with a spade to dig.

Between two plants I figure so it can 'disappear' over time. Don't want a permanant marker of where each hamster is in the garden. Might get a bit morbid.

I can't remember exactly where the last one end up. But I'm sure it's not where I am digging.

So that’s fine.

BabyBoy2 was very excited to see 'Diggin'' is going on. And very much wanted to join in.

He was not allowed.

Job done.

I head upstairs and help dress any child I see.

My hands are sore from digging and Mrs. Amazing gives me a bit sympathy and then asks where the hole is.

Long story short.

I head back down stairs and dig another hole AWAY from the area some plants are soon to be planted. I may have muttered a bit whilst I did.

Hands hurting and all...

Once everyone is ready for school.

The five of us line up outside and put Patch into his final destination. I say a few things about lights burning brightly and how much fun we had with him.

I mention last week when we had Patch out and he seemed to be standing on his legs for Boy9. I try to leave a good happy memory in his mind.

Boy9 declines saying a few words. As his eyes have started leaking again. He's hugged and we all troop in.

Miss5 is fine and soon running off to play.

BabyBoy2 asks ''Atch Gone?' for the tenth time and is then distracted to another topic.

Boy9 sobs a bit more, but seems to bounce back pretty quickly.

Hopefully his emotions mostly processed over Patch.

Later.

I realise I've probably just cemented my role as pastor and undertaker in the family now. By being able to do it reasonably well. And by being the one that does it.

I'll add them to my job titles list.

Just below ‘King Drunken fool’, ‘Captain Bins’, ‘Mr. Plumber’ and ‘He of the guffiest Guffs’

I’m quite proud of that one to be honest…

I’ll leave you with Queen’s very excellent song ‘Another One Bites the Dust’ (One of Boy9’s favourites).

Right? Ready Freddy? A-one, a-two and AWESOME-ROCK…

X