A Quick Five Minute Job (Takes Sodding Ages)...

It's amazing anything ever gets done with kids about.

Look at the step in this picture...

(The school shoes were refused...)

Shocking I know.

Sit if you need to. 

Ignore the shoes and Miss5’s foot. That’s another tale.

You’re looking at the step.

I walk over that step a lot.

It's my front door step and I notice it every time. It annoys me.

Despite my want, desire and need to paint it. It still hasn't been done. Something else is always more fun, important, someone has poo in their pants, the flock need feeding again, someone wants to show me something I've seen before, or the chocolate cupboard is just too darn full and there’s full wine bottles cluttering up the counter top.

Nothing bad has happened to the step.

Don’t worry. It's just a few years of innocent wear and tear.

I assume….

What are you doing? <Finds Boy8 near the step>

Boy8: 'Nothing'

Are you scuffing up the porch step? <Reins in anger>

Boy8: 'No' <Hides hands>

Show me your hands

Boy8: 'No' <Drops sand paper>

Is that sand paper? <Plots first date revenge, involving home-made Superman outfit, a bad Swedish accent and Boy8 as Boy1 photo-t -shirt>

Boy8: 'No... Why would I have sandpaper?...' <Has righteous indignation, yet cannot make eye contact>

<Calmly takes sandpaper> Anything else?

Boy8: <Reluctantly hands over paint stripper, blow torch, scuff-coloured paint>

You know this stuff doesn't help me?

Boy8: ‘Yeah' <Laughs> <Runs>

The scruffiness annoys me.

Of the step (mine is fine). It's a chank get-ter-on-ner-rer.

I feel the front door should look nice, even if inside the house is wall to wall kids crap toys and mine  jammed in and stuck to the walls.

The front door, should at least look nice.

(Possibly a bit showy…)

Of course painting the step is only a little job.

Get paint. Sit and paint. Job done. Five minutes maximum. 
Easy. Three simple steps and the job is done. Lovely.

Except it's not that. 
Life isn't like that any more. <WeepsRoars like a Lion>
This one little job... is going take a few days hours...
And have about fifty steps... <Motions to list of steps prepared earlier>

1. Get paint from shed.

2. Remove BabyBoy1 from the dangerous shed as he followed me in.

3. Lock BabyBoy1 out of dangerous shed.

4. Cheer up BabyBoy1 because he really wanted to hurt himself in the dangerous shed, and doesn't understand why Daddy stopped him.

5. Get stopped in kitchen and have to watch Miss5 walk through sunbeams. Faking fascination.

6. Make a cup of tea. Remind Boy8 football is for outside, only.

7. Realise I didn't get anything to open the smegging paint tin with. Swear internally.

8. Get big screwdriver from shed.

9. Remove BabyBoy1 from dangerous shed. Ignore crying this time.

10. Walk off, ignoring guilt of leaving BabyBoy1 crying face down on the ground. He will be fine.

11. Get stopped in kitchen and watch Miss5 spell out (yes watch) three words that are the spelt the same, but if you say them differently then they are spelt differently (??). 

<Puts mind back together>

12. Try to take football off Boy8 but fail and end up knocking something over. Swear internally.

13. Tidy up mess and ignore Boy8's mocking.

14. Finally sit and open paint.

15. Remove paint lid from BabyBoy1's hand as he has stuck up on me and I didn't see him grab for the lid.

16. Take BabyBoy1 to wash his hands.

17. Take BabyBoy1 to Mrs. Amazing for safe keeping.

18. Agree reluctantly happily that sitting in the quiet with a magazine, for sanity reasons, is just as important as painting a scruffy step.

19. Come back with BabyBoy1. Put cartoon on for him. His favourite and mine: 'Sarah and Duck'.

(Sarah: ‘Duck… We’re a bit low on food at the moment…

and there was a vote last night...)

20. Mentally set timer as 'Sarah and Duck's are only five minutes long.

21. Realise tea is cold. Make more tea.

22. Put paintbrush into paint, notice Miss5 standing there.

23. Explain to Miss5 what I am doing. Explain why I am doing it. Twice. Accept that not everyone (Miss5) sees why a step needs painting. Explain why white is the only colour going on here. No rainbows.

24. Get convinced that painting the step orange would very cool and go and see what Mrs. Amazing thinks.

25. Continue painting the step white, whilst reminding Miss5 to keep her ideas to herself.

26. Tell Miss5 to be careful, as the paint is wet.

27. Take Miss5 to wash her hands.

28. Paint over Miss5's hand print.

29. Retrieve paintbrush from BabyBoy1 who has stolen the paint brush and is slowly running away.

30. Put on another 'Sarah and Duck' for BabyBoy1.

31. Sit Miss5 in front of 'Sarah and Duck' as well.

32. Find Boy8 outside looking at paint on the bottom of his shoe.

33. Swear internally. Hit a few coats and hats in the porch.

34. Explain to Boy8 that the paint was wet. Explain why there wasn't a sign and really it's his fault for not looking where he is going.

35. Listen to Boy8 explain why it's my fault and there should have been a sign.

36. Pour all the paint over Boy8's head and then shove the brush up his nose to make myself feel better.

36. Accept that Boy8's has a point, he wasn't warned. But don't tell him that.

37. Paint over shoe mark.

38. Take Boy8 and clean the bottom of his shoe.

39. Return to find every flying animal in twenty square miles has landed on the wet paint. And got stuck.

40. Paint over the fools and try not to feel too cruel, or cackle out loud.

41. Tell ALL children, clearly, the paint is wet and to stay away.

42. Watch as ALL three are drawn towards the wet paint like they are being pulled into a black hole that's handing out chocolate.

43. Hatch a plan to get some quiet time and to give the paint a chance to dry.

44. Wrestle with the ethical consequences of the plan, the inevitable fall out. The price I will have to pay.

45. Accept the price and silently apologise to Mrs. Amazing in advance.

46. Say to kids…

Did you know Mummy is having a few minutes peace and quiet? Upstairs.

Make sure you don’t disturb her...

47. Watch as all three are drawn, like moths to a flame, towards Mrs. Amazing resting.

(Can’t resist... it’s just so ... Must! Must have!!! <Is thrown out of the store>)

48. Paint Step. Sit back and watch paint dry in peace.

49. Ignore sarcastic peace ruining tone from Mrs. Amazing. From upstairs...

Mrs. Amazing: 'Oh I am SO happy to see you ALL'
Mrs. Amazing: 'When I was TRYING to get a few moments PEACE AND QUIET?'

Mrs. Amazing: 'I THOUGHT Daddy was looking after you all?'
<Snigger>

50. Drink cold tea and wonder how best to make this up to Mrs. Amazing.

<Enjoys sun>

X

His Golden Ticket...

Boy8 called me on the phone at work.

Which is always a shock.

Ahoy-hoy?

Boy8: ‘s’up?’

I was busy working.

Being very busy, in my very busy workyness. Stuff was definitely being done, and to, and at a high standard. Like normal. The status quo.

There is no need for anyone to doubt that or check it.

Anyone... <Glares at the internet>

No way. You are wrong.

Workmate1: 'No. You are the one, that is, wrongo'

You are being a fool

Workmate1: 'No no! DAMN IT! You thoughts of this matter are that of a buffoon!'

Workmate2: 'Yeah, I'm with this guy' <Points>

Workmate2: 'You are King wrong'

Then you are both fools! How can you think that! It's madness! <Big arms>

Workmate1: 'Dude! Lemon Curd is, and will always be, a reasonable flavouring for a cupcake'

Workmate1: 'Cease this anti-curd vendetta you have and accept it as an alternative cupcake flavour to chocolate, vanilla and caramel with oats in' <Slams fist on table>

... NEVER! <Shakes both fists>

Workmate2: <Nods> 'Dude! Let it go!!!'

<Breaks into song>

...

Fine. You are both dead to me now  

<Takes all the cupcakes, leaving the lemon cturds>

<Runs>

(<Pukes into own hand> Boy8? Come here… Let’s shake hands!)

A phone call from Boy8 can mean three things...

1. Bad news
Boy8: 'Dad. There's been a terrible accident'

OMFB! Really? What happened?

Boy8: 'We were playing football in the sitting room’

Yes...

Boy8: 'With the table mats…’

I see... And... <Fears the worst>

Boy8: 'And your...' <deep breath> 'Boba Fett Slave 1 spaceship has...'

Has what? <Stands up>

Boy8: 'Has...'

WHAT HAS HAPPENED???

Boy8: <Long pause> 'It's gone to a galaxy far far away...'

...

<Hangs up in tears>

2. Information request

Boy8: 'Dad?

Yep mate <Is still working a bit>

Boy8: 'I want this movie of a Lion dance in my PowerPoint presentation'

OK <Feels confident>

Boy8: 'But I want it to scroll in, bounce around a bit, spiral, and then project as a 3D hologram onto my face?'

<Feels less confident> <Stops working> <Starts Googling hard>

.. Give a minute... er... You got a pen?

Boy8: 'Crayon?

That'll do... Right first we need some dilithium crystals...

(As the label says ‘Authentic Dilithium Crystals’. That’s just brilliant)

3. Good news!

He's done something awesome and he's phoning to show off share something that means to world to him, with his Dad. Or Mrs. Amazing has put him on the phone and told him to tell me the brilliant stuff he's done.

I don't care which. Both are cool.

It's quite a context shift in my head, switching from work to Dad mode.

It can be quite jarring sometimes. Suddenly I've my sons voice is in my ear, I'm probably still busy talking, I may have said 'shoot' down the receiver and done a pretend gun. I am not in Daddy mode.

Boy8: <Voice that says I am only eight> 'Hallo Dad!'

Ping! Dad mode.

I leave the room and run because he's already getting me to guess what happened this morning. A classic sign it's good news.

I leave the room to make sure I give him my full attention. Boy8 is having a slightly rough time at the mo. A few people in his life that he loves, are moving on. It is rocking his eight year old ship. And pure Dad-focus can calm even the roughest of seas. Or make them worse.

Brainzilla: 'Are you are some kind of emotional tidal dampener now?'

Oh bugger off … Yes, does it suit?

Brainzilla: 'No’

Fur-cough

Team Parents (yay!) have discussed Boy8 at length already.

OK I nodded a lot. But that doesn't mean I wasn't thinking it. Wasn't aware of the problems and extra stresses about to laid onto Boy8 plate. It doesn't mean I hadn't put my mind to it.

But luckily Mrs. Amazing had thought about it, and better yet, she had thought of a plan.

We I nodded both agreed Boy8 was going to be extra emotional and 'challenging' over the next few weeks. So we needed to acknowledge it, prepare for it, and be ready for the storm.

Mrs. Amazing's plan was a classic Mrs. Amazing plan. 

Be extra loving and supportive to him. Like normal. But extra.

Like pie with chips, but with pie on the side, next to more chips.

We discussed it maturely as normal...

Do I have to? <Does big Y arms>

Mrs. Amazing: 'Yes' <Does crossed arms>

Why? <Keeps arms aloft>

Mrs. Amazing: 'Because his confidence could take a hit or two here...'

… Wouldn't that make him less sassy with us? <Is hopeful>

Mrs. Amazing: 'No. It would make him even more sassy!'

That is not possible

Crapbadgers... For that reason then... I'm in...

Mrs. Amazing: 'Good...'

<Looks shifty>

Mrs. Amazing: 'What's wrong?'

Nothing... <Starts backing out of the room>

I've just got to take a few... er... pictures... and banners to take down...

Regarding yesterday's Mario Kart challenge...

<Runs>

(I have you now <Adjusts dials>

<Falcon swoops in> ‘YEEEEHAAA!!!!’)

However talking with Boy8 on the phone is still a bit weird.

It reminds me of talking with relatives the other side of the world as a girl boy, constantly talking at the same time due to the time delay on the line, ruining the flow of conversation and having a lot of you-go, no you-go. Silence. You-go, no you-go... etc.

All the visual clues Boy8 would normally get that indicate someone is still talking and doesn't want to be interrupted: fist shaking, me saying NO, showing him www.zipit.com, gaffing taping his mouth, leaving the room ... you know those micro expressions.

They're missing.

I do love hearing Boy8’s little voice though.

He does sound very eight on the phone. He's normally so big and loud and always moving, it's nice to have him in one place.

Just his little voice.

Of course BabyBoy1 gets the phone every now and then.

But he still gets confused about the lump of plastic in front of him that sounds like his Dad.

He just smiles at it (I've been told). Or if he does talk, it's not towards the receiver at all.

Or he tries to eat the phone.

Or both.

Calls from Miss5 are very hit or miss.

Miss5 is still reluctant to talk on the phone in case it steals her soul. She’s doesn't really see the point. Not a plus for the phone chat-chat.

Sometimes he's really keen, but then changes her mind totally. Or if she does start talking, she tells you something and then she's off to do stuff.

No time to hang about chatting, she's good important colouring stuff to do.

Anyhoo...

Boy8's news was good! (On the phone) Yay!

<Fist pumps> <Hurts arm>

He had been awarded an 'Active Learner', oooo, earned a 'Golden Ticket' for reading, oooOoooOoooo, and got to pet the school dog. All in one day.

Bonza! All big things in Boy8's life, he was very proud of himself. And so he should be.

The equivalent for me would be: an email of thanks at work, winning a trip to the pub in the company raffle (there is no raffle) (the pub is real though), and then an early night with Mrs. Amazing.

That's how good a day he had.

(‘Why’s it got bite marks in it?’

Wasn't me… <Does shifty eyes>)

I made sure I told Boy8 how proud I was of him.

I told him hard he had had (!) to work for this and how brilliant it was.

At least ten times, and in at least twelve different ways. Without swearing or resorting to mine (still on phone). I felt good that I had made him feel special.

He felt good that his Dad cared about what he had done, and was a bit impressed. A win-win situation.

It’s nice to get it right sometimes.

Just before he finally got phone-confused and accidentally hung up on me.

Bless. I took my chance and asked him if I could come to the Chocolate factory with him, just like Grandpa Joe. You know, as Golden Ticket = Chocolate Factory.

He said it wasn't that kind of Golden ticket. It was more likely going to be a cinema showing.

I'm pretty sure I managed to keep my disappointment to myself...

Boy8: 'Dad? You still there?'

<High pitched whimpering and snivelling> <Bass removed, non-directional, opponent confusing, warrior noises being made on purpose>

Boy8: '... I think he's gone or whimpering ...' 
<Hangs up>