The Milk for Pancakes Morning Mission...

And there we were.

6:50am outside of Tesco Express (our nearest shop). Waiting for it to open.

So we could buy milk.

To make pancakes for BabyBoy4.

Me dressed, but with unclean teeth, BabyBoy4 dressed in Spider-Man onesie (teeth also unclean).

It's moments like this that make me reevaluate my life...

(Why don’t we have milk taps in our houses?

It’d save a lot on plastics and rushing to the shops?)

<Knackered, sits on sofa>

<To world in general> What's it all about? Why am I here?

MysticalVoice: 'To love and spoil your children'

<Craps self> Who said that?

MysticalVoice: 'I am your spirit guide, love your children, take them on brilliant day trips'

Really? Is that the meaning of life? Time with loved ones?

MysticalVoice: 'Yes, and buy Boy11 more V-Bucks for Fortnite...'

GirlsMysticalVoice: 'And lots of cakes and pom-poms for Miss7'

<Is very suspicious>

Should I not, show Boy11 that life is hard work and graft?

MysticalVoice: 'NO! That's not fair! Miss7 hasn't worked hard and she never grafts!!!'

GirlsMysticalVoice: 'YES I HAVE! DADDY! BOY11 IS LYING!!!'

BothMysticalVoices: <Fight breaks out and both fall out from the back of the sofa>

Nice try you two… <Grins at them>

The morning had started early.

5am in trotted BabyBoy4 ready for the day. Knowing full well where he was going to get the most response, BabyBoy4 went to Mrs. Amazing's side of the bed.

And I assumed my normal position of being very, very, probably dead, asleep, silence.

Mrs. Amazing told BabyBoy4 to go back to bed whilst giving him kisses and cuddles and snuggling him under covers (??).

BabyBoy4 was sworn to silence and stillness and allowed to stay in our bed.

BabyBoy4 did his best.

Well I think he did. I was drifting in and out sleep, waking every now and then to hear Mrs. Amazing warn BabyBoy4 that if he didn't lie down and go to sleep silently, then she would take him back to his own bed.

<Whispers> Do it, do it...

Instead however all three of us played a game I like to call 'No-one gets any sleep'.

Crap game.

But it does have the final bonus round of 'Jump on parts of Daddy that don't like being hit'.

yay.

The thing is.

I could get up and march the little devil back to his room. So could Mrs. Amazing.

And normally we would, over and over, until he got the message (and then just played in his room anyway).

But Team Parent (yay!) can't. When it's mentioned he starts wailing and crying.

And it's too much for us.

Yes he is probably manipulating us better than his four years warrant. But BabyBoy4 has just started school and his little world has been turned upside down like a bomb has gone off.

He has gone from la-la-la play with Mummy most of the time, some nursery, run about a lot, have a laugh, play play play. Happy times.

To school five days in a row, behaving, some play, thinking about stuff, making friends, playground politics, lunch time decisions, homework, reading books (not eating books).

Crikey. When you put it that way. He is coping brilliantly.

He is also very highly strung and tired out.

Which means he needs love.

Love and support, and as much normalness as possible. They all do.

Which I hope shows why when BabyBoy4 asked for pancakes we initially said no.

No milk left. But then...

BabyBoy4: <Heartfelt sobs and tears>

<Grumbles from me>

BabyBoy4: <More heartfelt sobs and tears>

<More grumbles from me>

FINE! Let's go to the shops!

BabyBoy4: 'Yay!'

You're coming with me though...

BabyBoy4: 'Yay!'

Go get a onsie on and some shoes...

<Tries to get dressed but falls about a lot, as not bendy yet>

At 6:30am.

In pain and with eyes wincing, I wrestled BabyBoy4 off me and decided I had had enough sleep. (I had not).

Now was the time to get up though. All totally altruistic you understand, nothing to do with anger and groin pain thoroughly waking me.

Altruistic.

As I lean over to tell Mrs. Amazing the good news, she can stay in bed, she reminds me that Miss7 needs as much sleep as possible.

And Boy11, if possible, needs even more sleep than Miss7.

The start of term, and new schools has taken its toll on them both...

HeadTeacher: 'Morning!'

Morning!

HeadTeacher: 'Toll please'

What? School is free in this country. I ain't paying anything. <Shows fists>

HeadTeacher: 'No not money, if your daughter could stand here please'

Miss7: <Stands where told>

HeadTeacher: <Presses button on energy sapping, stress injecting machine>

[Ping]

HeadTeacher: 'All done! Have a good day'

<Gives Head teacher a look>... <Moves on>

I tell BabyBoy4 we have to sneak downstairs...

BabyBoy4: 'OK DADDY' <Thud thud thud>

Quietly!!!

BabyBoy4: 'OK Daddy' <Thud thud thud of bum on stairs>

<Gives up<

Me and Babyboy4 then.

Go through a charade I like call ‘Simon says, but no one does what they are told’. Which we seem to play most school mornings. I tell BabyBoy4 to put some shoes and his onesie. Whilst I get myself ready.

He runs off to his room. Making the same amount of noise as an elephant herd at tap dancing classes.

I whisper / shout up the stairs after him ‘Shhhhh’.

His little head appears and shouts back ‘WHAT’. I repeat ‘Shhh’.

He shouts back ‘OK’. I am pretty sure I hear Miss7 stir and start getting out of her bed.

I call BabyBoy4 down to me.

He has not got changed at all.

Apparently he cannot find his onesie. I hold up the one I wanted him to put on. The one I held up to him before ran off to find the onsie I am holding.

He giggles.

Which is good as it reminds me that I am talking to someone that is only four years old. And whilst it feels very natural to get cross with him for not listening. It is also dumb.

You can catch more flies with honey than barking orders at them, well something like that anyway.

You get my point.

We bundle into the car.

BabyBoy4 asks if he can sit in the front. Which I um and ah about. He is nearly big enough. However I check and ask if Mrs. Amazing has allowed him to do so yet?

No he honestly says. So that’s a no from me too.

BabyBoy4 takes it well and happily gets in his seat on his own.

I put on his favourite song at the moment, ‘I’m still standing’ which is from the Sing soundtrack (its a cover version of the Elton John classic).

No idea why this song means so much to him. But I like it too so we sing along together and head off to get milk so we can make pancakes.

Ideally very quickly as we have to get home, cook them, eat them, and then still get everyone to school and work. And that’s no mean feat normally.

Let alone when we have to do a milk rumn.

(Look what I got!!!

Mrs. Amazing: ‘That’s not milk!’

No… It’s better! <Pours everyone a pint>)

We arrive at the shop.

It’s empty so I park easy and we bundle out of the car. BabyBoy4 insisting on climbing out my door, rather than just coming out his own door. Sigh.

We’re in such a rush that I leave my phone in the car and we walk up to the door.

I am pretty sure they will be open. I sure they will be.

People like me want milk first thing.

They should be open.

They are not open.

You gotta remember I am barely awake and this news does not go down well in my camp.

I look to the sky and mutter stuff under my breath. Being very careful not to accidentally say the sweary words outloud and the OK words quiet (unlike a certain Mrs. Amazing did yesterday) (although to be fair I dropped an F bomb in front Boy11 the day, when I wasn’t concentrating).

I look to the sky and wonder what on earth the time is.

And how long will we have to wait.

BabyBoy4 however.

Is more proactive than me and without me seeing, puts both his little hands into the double doors or the store and somehow manages to prise them open.

And into the store he goes calling me.

It was quite a shock when I look down from the sky and see BabyBoy4 in the store beckoning to me, big smile on his face.

The store manager that comes over and shoos BabyBoy4 back out of the shop is less impressed with my little lad.

She’s pretty cross to be honest. I guess she thought I did it.

Meh.

So we have to wait.

We go back to the car and grab my phone, which is my clock, and it seems we have ten minutes to wait.

BabyBoy4 suggests we go to the play park and wait. But it’s soaking wet and I know, because I was involved in his dressing, that under that onesie there is nothing else.

Him getting damp isn’t the best plan I decide. No instead we walk back to the doors, and wait.

Him dressed in his Spider-Man onesie.

Me still barely awake.

Then he asks me to take his hand whilst we wait.

And it’s then as we wait. I stop and look down at this tiny little boy.

He’s very happy. He’s got his Dad holding his hand doing something just for him.

The promise of pancakes coming (assuming they have milk, they did).

BabyBoy4 turns and looks up at me and smiles.

It's then I realise there’s not much I wouldn’t do for this little boy. For any of them.

Even if does mean finding myself in these weird situations.

Other people arrive and start queuing behind us.
Which just makes it weirder as we are blocking the entire entrance, hands held, looking as though we are here for something incredibly important, like bread or eggs, booze.

Nope, just milk.

Finally the doors open.

In we go, get milk. I mention to the person serving us we’re only here for milk for pancakes.

They really do not care. I mean really don’t care. Fair enough. Not sure why I said it really.

Then we head home. Me worrying about the time. So we get into the car hella quick, and drive off in a rush.

Halfway home.

A little voice (BabyBoy4’s obv.) says ‘Look Daddy’. I explain I cannot really look as I am driving. But a glance in my mirror and I can see his belt isn’t on. ARGHGHGGGH!

With a bit of coaching BabyBoy4 quickly manages to put it on himself and click it into place.

Whilst I managed not to crash the car. Good work both of us.

But oh my word. I hadn’t checked. What on earth was so important that I forgot to check he was in the car safe.

Nothing. I am a Muppet. Gonzo in fact.

(It’s hard to take you seriously…

...With that shirt on...)

Still, he is safe.

We get home. Pancakes are had. BabyBoy4 barely eats them. I find my favourite swearing pillow and have a good moment with it.

We all rush about to get ready for school and work.

And it’s just as I am making everyone's lunches Mrs. Amazing asks if I got any bread.

… Was I flimming flamming meant to?

<Goes back to pillow>

The kids go to school with jam smeared on a playing card with sandwich substitutes, wraps.

And I promise to get bread on my way back from work.

What a stupid morning!

X

Noisy but Tiny...

Something has changed in BabyBoy3 over Christmas.

It's almost as though his internal volume has been turned up.

I suppose he has always been a bit loud when he’s playing and having fun.

But all of a sudden he seems to be operating at 11...

BabyBoy3: ‘OK Miss6 let’s try it now… aahhh ahhh’

Miss6: ‘Nope’ <Shakes head> ‘Can’t really hear you?’

BabyBoy3: ‘How about NOW? CAN YOU HEAR THIS?’

Miss6: ‘Yes that’s better, but can you any louder?’

BabyBoy3: ‘IS THIS BETTER???’

Miss6: ‘Yes! That’s the volume’ <Has hands over ears>

<They high five on a job well done>

(Inside voice on left, outside voice on right…)

Obviously Team Parent (yay!) had a chat about it.

Not just because the increased volume was starting to get into our heads a bit. But also because BabyBoy3 seems to have stopped listening as well.

My first thoughts are that there is something jammed in his ears. Which is adjusting his volume and hearing. A crayon maybe, the lost Paw Patrol dog, brio track, Miss6...

But after a quick Maglite (I always have one on me, I'm that kinda of secret agent Dad, armed) check all I can see is some ear wax. Ew. And that Team Parent (yay!) need to be a bit more ruthless when cleaning his neck, as it's a bit mucky.

BabyBoy3 hates having water near his ears. So our slip on cleaning that part of him can, I feel, be forgiven a little bit. As it's not normally worth the fight...

OK BabyBoy3, we'll just rinse out your hair, lay down… good boy...

<BabyBoy3 lays super carefully in a inch of bath water>

There we go... <Is rinsing it out> All clean...

<Super calm voice> Now... We'll just wash your ears...

BabyBoy3: 'NONONONO!!!NO!!NOOO!!!!' <Quickly rolls over, hides face under arms>

You know... That's not very helpful...

<Is faced with BabyBoy3's bum sticking up at me>

Might as well clean that whilst I'm here... Brace yourself...

<Lots of giggling>

But what has caused this increase in volume?

We've no idea. It could just be Christmas, which BabyBoy3 found hella exciting.

From start to finish the little lad squealed and shrieked with excitement with almost everything Christmasy related. Fair play. He’s three. And Christmas ROCKS.

It was soooo lovely to see. And being the foolish Team Parent (yay!) that we are, we clapped and laughed along, and gave tonnes of attention to him every time he squealed or shrieked.

So it could be that.

But something tells it isn't.

In fact something tells me we are never gonna work out what has caused this change. As it could be loads of things really: BabyBoy3 keeps getting bigger so maybe his little lungs have just got bigger, and with that increase in air space, an increase in volume has resulted. Maybe he's just got more to say and volume is his way of getting attention. It works for Boy10. Obvs. the hearing answer is still on the table.

See loads of things. Three at least.

LOADS.

There’s a funny side effect of this volume increase.

BabyBoy3 seems bigger. He seems to take up more space in the world. Not in a physical way. But the sound space he now occupies has got larger.

It's the same with Miss6 and Boy10. When they are not about Team Parent (yay!) notice the sudden drop in noise and the house feels huge. It's hard to explain.

It's like a colleague at work that's all noisy and talks loudly on their phone all the time. Then they nob off on hols (the selfish swines)... and suddenly the office is quiet...

[Eerie quiet]

Er... Hello? <Leans around monitor> Is anyone there? Hello?

<Walks about a bit, finds no-one>

Hello? ... Where have you all gone? Was there cake and no-one told me?

[Even more eerie quiet]

I like cake too!?

[Cleaners bustle in]

Cleaner: 'Wow! You're here late! That’s not like you?’

Rude! I'm WHAT? <Checks clock> CRAP!

<Leaves immediately>

(Friend: ‘Have you lost weight?’

Yeah… but I’ve grown these ears…

...and a tail <Is worried>

Friend: ‘And what’s up with your cheeks?’

I’m storing cheese for the winter...

Friend: ‘Oh…’ <Is worried>)

It also means that I spend a fair bit of time telling BabyBoy3 to be quieter.

In fact my favourite expressions for this are:

1. Dude! I am sat right next to you, stop shouting at me!

2. Inside voice! Inside voice, please!

3. ARHGHGGH that's right in my ear! DUDE!

4. If you want me, come and find me, stop hollering my name!

Now... What did you want?

<Shows me the LEGO he has made>

It's amazeballs... <Is not that thrilled to have left what I was doing to be shown this>

It came to head yesterday.

I had been spring cleaning. Which meant I had half of my tools out of my shed and had spent a delightful morning painting the down-stairs toilet. Banging tunes blocking out everyone else, whilst I painted, hoovered and dusted. Lovely.

Leaving poor Mrs. Amazing to battle with troops all morning solo. She was promoted to  ‘Absolute Ruler of Everything in the Entire Universe Forever’ again for her hard work and dedication to the cause.

When I had finally finished.

We all bundled into the car and headed off for a fun family outing. Me and Mrs. Amazing in the front. Miss6 and BabyBoy3 in the back. Boy10 travelled in another car (long story, another time).

Within the space of ten minutes and with Miss6 and BabyBoy3 super excited about our trip out. And a bit nuts anyway. I had lent around four times to ask / tell BabyBoy3 to quieten down. I wasn't even driving. But suddenly now in the car. In that confined space. BabyBoy3's voice was too big for me and it was drilling into my head.

Just like a sledgehammer drilling into a grape.

Ish.

Mrs. Amazing however was not struggling.

Mrs. Amazing had spent the morning with Miss6 and BabyBoy3 and was used to it.

Not liking it mind. But used to it.

She told me so too and I realised who the problem here was. It wasn’t BabyBoy3.

So I shut up and started to put up.

Anyhoo… the tale...

BabyBoy3 awoke at 4:MERCY AM this morning.

I hear. As it was Mrs. Amazing that has relayed this to me. I was very skillfully and utterly asleep, dreaming of being warm and toasty in bed and able to sleep for at least an hour or two more. Great dream.

But just a dream.

At about 5:30 AM.

Mrs. Amazing sweetly turned to me and amazingly managed to wake me.

And said (something like, I may have made this up paraphrased)...

Mrs. Amazing: 'Please can you take him?'

Mrs. Amazing: 'I've been up since the Paleolithic period...'

<Answers in eye movements as mouth not working yet>

<Manages to convey yes>

I am pretty sure Mrs. Amazing was expecting me to leap into action.

She's optimistic like that. I did hit my Storm Trooper (clock) on the head to see what the time was. So I could make the best plan possible. ARGHO’Clock.

My plan had to be weighted with the problem that Miss6 had to stay asleep. Ergo, BabyBoy3 could not go play in his room on his own. As he V. noisy.

Nor could we sneak down for Cartoons, as BabyBoy3 V. noisy, and Miss6 will hear the tele.

Also there was no way I was getting up at 5:30AM to go watch cartoons. The heating hadn't come on yet.

It would be freezing down there.

(Maybe a slight exaggeration... the Christmas tree has gone...

We've less snow on the floor normally... and follicly I am more challenged...

Boy10: <Shouts from far away> 'YOU MEAN BALD DON'T YOU? AH HA HA HAAA!'

I WILL FIND YOU AND GET YOU WHOEVER YOU ARE! <Shakes fist>

Ignore him... follicly challenged...)

So in the best of Dad moves.

I did nothing and let BabyBoy3 sneak between us both in bed.

I did ask him nicely if he wouldn't mind going back to sleep for a little while.

BabyBoy3 said yes. Good chap.

Mrs. Amazing rolled over with a clear 'Do not disturb' aura about her back.

And with confidence in BabyBoy3, I closed my eyes again.

15 milliseconds later.

I had another quiet word with BabyBoy3 about the noise.

And feet in faces. And low kicks. Ow.

At one point I realised that in the tiny gap between Mrs. Amazing and me, BabyBoy3 was laid out sideways. Sideways! How tiny is he! His little face peering into mine and his feet resting on Mrs. Amazing's back.

Moments later. Another word. Which BabyBoy3 decided the best way to listen to me would be to stand up in our bed. And bounce a bit.

I disagreed.

At 6AM I gave in.

The heating had come on. And asked BabyBoy3 if he would like to go watch cartoons with me downstairs...

BabyBoy3: 'WHOOOHOOOO!'

<Whispering> Quietly... <Gives look>

BabyBoy3: 'SORRY DADDY, SORRY!'

Shhhh!

BabyBoy3: '... sorry daddy... shhhh' <Puts finger over mouth hella cutely>

We stopped to get BabyBoy3's dressing gown.

Which he doesn't likes wearing. But as that's what you do in the morning. That's what he does.

We put it on. Me knowing it won't last more than a minute downstairs. But whatevs.

I grab his duvet too as I want to be a lot warmer than I am right now.

And then, despite a lot of noise from one of us...

BabyBoy3: 'DADDY? IS MISS6 ASLEEP?'

<Barely audible>... yes... shhh...

BabyBoy3: 'OK!'

[Thud thud on stairs]

We made it downstairs.

Without waking Miss6. Result. I turned the tele right down and we snuggled under the duvet together. Which I hella love doing. I’m a cartoons fan anyway but I utter love getting some extra time with BabyBoy3. Just us.

It's always amazebadgers.

A post shared by Tales from the... Dad Side! (@talesfromthedadside3) on Dec 31, 2017 at 11:39pm PST

(Hella cute)

Then we argued.

Me Vs. BabyBoy3. Because in BabyBoy3’s world when you wake up, you get chocolate milk.

That is how it always done, and how it should always be done, and will always be done.

I, on the other, refused very clearly to make chocolate milk until it was official wake up time, 6:30AM. BabyBoy3 does not understand and starts crying.

Loudly.

Oh no little fella!

That is not happening! We haven't been working hard to not wake Miss6 for you to now wake her. Blackmailing some chocolate milk out of me with your crying!

NO! I'm the flipping adult... <Checks> yeah! We do things my way!

YEAH!

So I tell him off.

Just a very little. But the message is clear, no milk until 6:30AM and if you wake Miss6 up?... Well... then... Daddy will be pretty cross, and basically powerless to do anything about, as you're only three, but the threat… Oooo yeah! Just pay attention to the threat, ignore the details.

<Does mystical hands>

Somehow it works and BabyBoy3 stops crying.

Then my little boy goes uber cute on me. UBER. He wriggles over right next to me under the duvet, leans against me, and puts his hand on my back. BLESS!

His little feet under the duvet don't even come up to my knees.

If I lent out my arm I could happily and comfortably rest my arm on his head (which he doesn't like).

It's then that BabyBoy3 seems to shrink.

And becomes tiny again. As all the noise around this little boy goes. It just seems to disappear.

Left sat next to me quietly watching Bob the Builder (the new-style US version SUUUUUUCKS), is a tiny little boy. Just three. That has been acting so big lately I had kind of forgotten just how little he really is.

<Heart utterly melts for him, and he isn't even doing anything>

I put my arm around him and he snuggles into it.

<I'm basically fighting back tears now>

And we just sit, and giggle, about Bob being a twat and utter US sellout doing his job poorly.

As normal...

BabyBoy3: <Whispers with spit> 'Daddy... Is it time for milk yet?'

<Checks time, it's 6:30AM on the dot> Yeah mate...

BabyBoy3: 'Me help you?'

Sure!

BabyBoy3: 'YAYY!' <Runs to kitchen>

<Takes a minute to re-solidify heart (that melted) and remove mysterious moisture streaming from eyes>

Right! Can you get the milk out?...

<Is uber glad to have these moments with BabyBoy3, despite the earlyness (real word)>

<But may refrain from mentioning that to Mrs. Amazing>

X

(BabyBoy3: ‘Me help’

Cool… Oh wait… Hang on… careful now!!!

BabyBoy3: ‘Oppsie!’’

<Gets cloth>)