They Can Move It When They Want To (We're Rocketeers) ...

When it comes to being on time, there are two types of people in the world.

Those that are late and those that are not.

Time stands above us all and is utterly unsympathetic in it's judgement.

No matter your excuses, reasons, things on fires, line of chicks in the road, unfindable school bags. Time judges everyone the same.
Late or not late.

Of course some people would love to be on time.

Like me. Hardwired into my brain is a need and screaming desire to always be on time for everything. Although added into the mix are the words of wisdom I picked as a young boy. Better to be late, than not ready.

Which when applied to the children means it's better to have to push through the sea of parents heading out of the school, have to go to reception, look guilty, and then be buzzed in, WITH Miss6's school bag in hand. Than be on time.

It's complex.

Being on time does bug me though.

I want to be on time. And I organise myself thusly and I assume left to my own devices I would arrive to most things drunk, in a very gentlemanly,  bit early, way.

However I am no longer on my own. Boy10, Miss6, BabyBoy3 and yes indeed Mrs. Amazing now confuse me, and my on-time abilities.

But hell! I wouldn't have it any other way.
Unless of course that other way was still with all of them.

But on time.

I used to care so much about being on time.

That I used to vent my frustrations on those around me. I am no angel now about it now.

But I have worked hard at it and now I internalise all my rage feelings. A lot more healthy (??).

One of the times that I really learnt just how bad I was.
Was with Boy10, back when he was Boy3. Little tiny Boy3.

Come with me and see...

[We all get into a big box with Time Machine written on it]

Cuppa? Biscuit? No, not those... This won't take long.

<Presses big button>

[Everything goes all wobbly]

We're here! The year is 19852011... TOUCH NOTHING!

<Gives you a stern look>

(From the utterly brilliant, and well worth your time, Calvin and Hobbes)

We lived twenty minutes from nursery.

And our mode of transport was me gasping jogging alongside Boy3 on his wobble bike. Ignoring the teasing comments from strangers as we went.

Boy3 would wobble along as fast as he could and his concentration would allow.

Some days we would get wet in the rain. Others we would meander along in the sun. A few times we stopped at the park and played.

But there was this one time at band camp, one morning, when we were running late.

And I really let it all get to me.

Seems daft looking back now.

And dumb. And mean. I was only going to be late for work. I just wanted Boy3 to go faster. And he wouldn't.

We were running late as Boy3 had taken ages to get ready. We had fought about getting dressed that morning (me making him, not the other way round). So I wasn't in the best moods before we left.

Boy3 had me, well, barking I suppose <Hangs head> at him to go faster all the way there.

Then with nursery in sight. Boy3 decided he was tired and had probably had enough of me verbally chiding him.

Boy3 stopped and refused to move any more.

I'm cringing at myself writing this you know... <Is cringy>

I freaked.

I can't remember what I said. Just that I said a lot and was very cross. So cross people nearby started looking at us.

I remember their looks and it feeling horrid and weird. But their looks got into my head, even as I was still ballin out Boy3.

He started crying.

Yes. I suck I know.

To start with. I thought the strangers understood what was happening and why I was raging at this little boy. And I felt justified in what I was doing. But that stupid thought soon sodded off. As it should have. And was replaced with a much more sensible one.

They weren't looking on understanding what I was doing. They were looking on wondering what the smeg I was doing. And did they need to do anything about an adult that had clearly lost it.

Me.

Eventually I ran out of words and looked at what I had done.

Boy3 in tears. What a bully I was. I hugged him tight and said I was sorry. He was OK, but pretty shaken. His Dad had been pretty mean to him.

<Sad face>

Later Mrs. Amazing passed on what Boy3 had said to her about it all...

Boy3: 'He was just SOOO cross as me!!!'

Crap.

Now there's a memory that twists like a knife in my heart everytime I think it. Prat.

A Dad low.

<Claps> RIGHT! You've seen enough!!! Field trip over!

Everyone back in the time machine <Claps more>

Put that down! ... Mint anyone?

<Hits big red button>

[Nothing happens]

<Kicks time machine>

[Everything goes all wobbly]

We're back! 2017!

Does anyone have a frequent time travel card that needs stamping?

But why do we fall over?

So we can learn to get back up (thank you Batman). I learnt from that horrible mistake.

That has never happened again. Maybe a few cross words sometimes about lateness.

But never that bad again.

I now have a little switch in my head that goes off. -A mate installed it, can’t go near electricity pylons now <Twitches>.

It's the 'You're getting too stressed about this' switch. And I know now when that switch goes off, I must stop. Being on time isn't that important. It's not worth upsetting anyone I love about it. Enemies fine obvs.

But loved ones. Nopey. Now. I just accept the lateness.

It is surprisingly liberating.

However Boy10 (who was Boy3 obvs.).

Gets stressed out when he is late. And it's all my fault. He's learnt that from me.

Which now I think about it, I got from my Father, sigh. <Actually sighs>

I do my best to teach Boy10 my new way. But undoing things like that can take a long time.

I'll keep working at it.

ANYhooooo...

<Brushes past shames off>

I was awoken by Mrs. Amazing calling me.

Apparently it was 8:10am and shouldn't we have left by now? Yes, yes we should have.

This particular morning me, Miss6 and BabyBoy3 all needed to leave, that's LEAVE, the house at 8:10am. Else Miss6 would be late for school and I'll be late for work.

It doesn't really matter if BabyBoy3 is late for nursery, but he may miss second breakfast, and that would be bad.

I leap out of bed.

(We did BabyBoy3 get a cloak from?

Mrs. Amazing: ‘It’s Miss6’s frozen cape’

Ahhh….

Put clothes on.

Raced downstairs and apologised to Mrs. Amazing for not getting up. As she had done everything this morning so far.

We somehow managed to leave at 8:25. In those fifteen minutes I managed to neck a cold tea, make Miss6's lunch, clean down the surfaces in the kitchen, flush the toilet that someone had left a poo in, cleared out BabyBoy3's potty which also had a poo in it (yuk), got myself ready (I clearly spend a lot of time on my appearance), said yo to the three ratbags, listened to two rocking tunes, and then forget my hat, despite the rain.

Mrs. Amazing very sweetly had Miss6 and BabyBoy3 ready by the door in hats and gloves ready to walk in the rain.

Lateness was seriously calling.

Lateness: 'Oy baldy!'

What? Oh look, sorry, but I am rushing... I can't talk!

Lateness: 'But I have free cake?!'

Really? … No no, I don't want to be late! No thanks!

Lateness: 'Bacon?'

... er... No!

Lateness: 'Bacon! Cake! A whole mountain of chocolate and a lovely cup of tea?'

... I do need another cuppa... <Walks over to lateness>

Lateness: 'SUCKER!' <Runs>

Damn it! <Is now late>

It was raining when we got outside.

No scooters due to rain. So they had to run. And I had to encourage them to do so. But without getting wound up and stressed out. Quite a challenge.

But I've learnt my lessons over the years and after the tenth time of asking BabyBoy3 to get a move on. We had only gone ten yards.

My switch flipped and I caught myself.

I just accepted we were going to be late. Miss6 for school - sorry Mrs. Amazing -

and me for work.

#SorryNotSorry.

And then Miss6 and BabyBoy3 amazed me.

The second I stopped berating them. The moment I chilled out and just let them be.

They solved the problem all on their own.

It started when Miss6 walked up behind BabyBoy3 and tapped him on the back...

Miss6: 'There! Now you've got your rocket pack on'

BabyBoy3: <Smiles>

BabyBoy3: <Quickly rushes round and taps Miss6's back> 'You got yure rocket pack on!'

And then they both whooshed off pretending to fly.

At full running speed. I joined in. Very happy with the amazing speed they suddenly had.

When Miss6 stopped me and pointed out that I didn't have my rocket pack on so I couldn't fly yet.

Are you kidding me?

But without a pause, Miss6 tapped my back and I was rocket pack ready.

Off we all flew!

Looking like nutters.

(YEAH!!! And I bet I looked exactly that cool too...)

For the rest of the journey they rocketed along.

Even up the little hill which normally knackers out BabyBoy3. Whoosh they went.

We did all have to stop for fuel a few times. Which involved someone else standing next to you, touching you and then saying glug-glug. There were oil stops too. But they were all brief.

But the speed they whooshed at was incredible. Miss6 and BabyBoy3, which is more surprising, rocketed (ran) all the way to nursery. That’s a long way for a three year old.

They went faster than they ever had on scooters or bikes.

Even I couldn't miss that lesson.

Right there in my face, all up in my grill. Being taught to me by Miss6 and BabyBoy3 and all their years of experience. You want kids to move faster?

Let them put on their imaginary rocket packs! And whoosh!

Oh! And stop being a stressy twatonk.

X

My Tooth Fairy Impression...

Did you know the tooth fairy needs help sometimes?

Well she does. Shame on you. You should have known that. <Tuts>

And when the tooth fairy needs help Team Parent (yay!) step in. It's the least we can we do.

We take on all the risk and funding (we what?) and make sure the job gets done.

Like the hard working, grown up, professionals we are...

Night, night, my lover!

Mrs. Amazing: 'Night muppet'

Pardon?

Mrs. Amazing: 'Night darling'

Oh... Night!...

<Both just drifting off>

[Silence in the house]

<Both sit bolt upright> TOOTH FAIRY!

Teeth falling out of your kids mouth is really weird.

I know kids are cute and all that. So it's kind of OK. But really it's pretty freaky.

Did you know you get born with your adult teeth in your skull-mouth?

Then as you get older. Six-ish for Boy10. The adult teeth suddenly decide it is their time, their moment in the saliva, and they push the baby teeth out. To their deaths obvs, and then take over. Which is why the baby teeth fall out. The adult ones kill them.

Weird huh!

(This is what children have in their heads. True story

(Kill it!... Kill it fire!)

Boy10 is running out of baby teeth.

Dentist said so. Which is cool. They are falling out due to natural causes. Not because of his daily sugar lick. Natural causes. Violent adult teeth. Plus Boy10 is getting older.

The huge holes in his toothy smile are starting to be filled in. With big teeth. Which is a bonus for photos 'spose.

And Boy10’s time and delight in making Mrs. Amazing squirm as he twists and pulls on his loose teeth is running out. Ha ha. #SoProud.

My boy's getting all grown up and stuff.

<Doesn't cry> <Heads off to chop stuff and hit it with hammers>

Twenty baby teeth.

Apparently everyone gets twenty visits from the tooth fairy for their baby teeth. If you're lucky and get punched in the face, maybe twenty one.

But that twenty is assuming the tooth isn't lost, stolen, sold for Pokeman cards, isn’t still stuck in the toffee that ripped it out, or wasn't sadly swallowed.

So if you are wondering how much money the tooth fairy is likely to be leaving your darling child. Remember it's that times twenty.

And don't (do not) underestimate the frowns from me, I'll come find you you may get in the playground when your child proudly declares that the tooth fairy left them a pony £5 note...

Boy6: 'Daddy why did I only get £1?'

<Mouths to 'Generous' parent> I will kill you We all hate you right now!

<Turns to Boy6> ... well... because whilst some people value money above all other things...

<Gives frowny, head shaking double eyebrow, not us, look>

Some other people, know that it's the free things that are worth the most.

Boy6: '...'

Boy6: 'Not me. I prefer the cash'

<Checks pockets> I've thirteen pence, old gum, and a voucher for thruppence off a burger

Boy6: 'Thank you' <Takes it all>

<Is gutted about the burger voucher>

Anyhoo...

It was after midnight.

I was tired out. Proper, so tired out that you have to go to bed even later, because you're so tired, and just getting up and going to bed is tiring. I had also been to ninja training class and moving was proving quite impossible.

I had laid for ages in the bath. Planning and plotting exiting the bath and making it the two, maybe, three meters, from the bath to Team Parent (yay!)'s bed.

Eventually I am forced out by uber cold bath water.

Now tired and very cold.

I collapse into bed and in a moment of surprising memory and clarity, for me.

I remember Boy10 saying his tooth had fallen out six hours before. In the very brief window I had this evening to talk to him and he had shown me his missing tooth.

BOOM! Six hours later, past midnight I totally remembered it.

But knowing Mrs. Amazing would never forget something as important as a tooth fairy.

I asked her if helping the tooth fairy had gone well...

[From beneath pillows]

Mrs. Amazing: 'OH MOD! Mi mavn't mone mit!'

Ooooo... you best do it now then... <Lies down ready to sleep like a tired out log>

Mrs. Amazing: 'Moo mo mit!'

I always wake him up when I do it! Don't make me do it!

Mrs. Amazing: 'SNORE SNORE SNORE'

...

You know... saying snore out loud actually proves

Mrs. Amazing: 'SNORE SNORE SNORE'

... whatever… FINE! I'll do it...

Mrs. Amazing: 'Snorrrrre snoorrrreeee good luck snooore'

<Gives Mrs. Amazing frowny look as I pull on Star Wars joggers>

In the second I leave my own bedroom.

My mind starts working through what needs to be done. The highs and lows. And where my concerns are.

I have immediate problems…

1) I have no money on me at all.

Nadda. I rarely have cash on me now. Which is fine by me except for two occasions. Now obvs. And when I am taking Miss6 swimming and I don't have change for the lockers. But that's also normally fine as most places will let you buy a quid in change with your swimming.

Even my arch nemesis, the scottish cow-bag woman from my local leisure center. Even she, satan's first wife, now has to agree to handing over a quid to me. ...I digress.

I have no pound for Boy10.

(Would a pound of potatoes do?

Mrs. Amazing: ‘Nope. And put those back’

Sure… <Runs>)

2) All the floors in our house squeak.

Especially late at night when I am sneaking. Then it's as if the original architect placed fog horns every few inches of floor boards. But repeating ones. I swear some creaks 'go off' even when I’m nowhere near.

It takes all my ninja skills just to get down the hall without sounding like an elephant's clog dancing class.

3) We don't know the tooth is.

O’PLUCK. This is quite a big problem. As the last tooth. Which the tooth fairy collected herself, we didn't have to help or pay that time.

Well that tooth Boy10 had placed on top of his alarm clock, and it was only blind luck that the tooth fairy found it. That and her innate sense of teeth detection obvs.

So where on earth in his room had Boy10 put this tooth? With a bit of luck, a strong head wind, and fresh horse, I was going to find the tooth under his pillow.

Where which is where Team Parent (yay!) have always said pushed fallen teeth should be placed.

4) It’ll be right in the middle.

If Boy10 has put his tooth under pillow. Then he would have put it exactly in the middle of the pillow. RIGHT under his head. Just to really test the tooth fairy or her helpers. Whoever they may be, this cold, exhausting, late night.

<Grumbles>

5) The tooth fairy always leaves glitter.

Well she’s a fairy. Of course she leaves glitter behind her. If Team Parent (yay!) are helping out then we try our best to mimic what she would do. And luckily Mrs. Amazing always knows where some glitter is. Or she just has on her, magically.

Sadly Mrs. Amazing is now utterly fast asleep. And whilst my knowledge of where glitter is kept is low.

There’s always hope.

So with five clear problems to solve.

I leap into action and stood in the hall for a bit. Being undecided. Getting cold.

Then I went and double checked my trousers for a quid. Still nope. 7 pence only.

Which would work fine on Miss6 and BabyBoy3, as they are shinny. And that's all those two want. Boy10 not so much. He is no longer fooled by shiny things.

He wants wonga.

Then a brain wave hit me.

Ow. The swimming bag! Downstairs is the bag me and Miss6 always take swimming with us. That has her goggles in, some shampoo, a bastard useless comb that is only strong enough to move my arm hairs about.

AND TADADADADTAAAAA a pound we keep in the bag for the lockers.

Which I've realised I took and haven't replaced yet. Crap!

<Runs off to replace the pound mi…..d typing>

One problem down.

Four to go. The squeaky floors I am just going to have to do my best about.

Move slowly. Like a ninja.

CREEEEEEAKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

... be stealthy...

CREEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

... move like the badger Cat...

CREEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

... or just hope they don't wake.

The glitter I search for.

And amazingly find! Amazing! But as I tip a little into my hand. I spill it. And then have to clear it up. Which isn't easy. And really I just want to leave it.

But then Boy10 may notice the glitter mess. Put two and two together. AND BOOM! Childhood ruined.

Grumbling I sweep up a little bit of glitter.

(Mrs. Amazing: ‘Where’s Miss6?’

No idea, haven’t seen her for a while?

Last I saw of her, she took some pens, some pipe cleaners and glitter up her room…

But that two hours ago...

Mrs. Amazing: ‘WHAT??? OH NO!!!’

<Both run, are way too late>

As for the tooth's location.

I sneak into Boy10's room with my phone, and use it's lovely glow to check a few places.

CREEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK-KKKK-KKKKKK-KKKKKKKKKK

Nothing. Darn it.

I'll have to assume he has put it under his pillow.

And the final problem.

Boy10's head is exactly in the middle of the pillow. Exactly on top of where he may have put the tooth. Of course he's got two pillows tonight. So I've got double checking to do.

OMFB! I wish Mrs. Amazing was doing this and I was still in bed fast asleep.

If Boy10 wakes Mrs. Amazing is an expert at distracting Boy10 and then still managing to deliver the payload.

Me. I'm gonna panic. Shove the coin up his nose, fall off the bed, and get a pillow stuck on my head.

I am not confident.

After much assessing.

Planning and thinking about how best to do this. With only one hand. As the other has glitter in it. I try to very stealthily sneak my hand under Boy10's pillow without waking him.

And obv. as I am sure you have already guessed. It is not possible.

You cannot check for something under someone's head, without moving their head. Maybe with some more time and a little inflatable balloon. You could.

But I'm cold and completely out of little inflatable balloons. I try again on the other side.

It goes worse somehow. As Boy10 sleep moans and moves a little. Not away from the centre of the pillow. Obvs. Just a wriggle about.

Then like a rabbit in the headlights.

The worst happens. I am stood with my hand half under his pillow. Coin in the searching hand. Glitter in the other. Praying that Boy10 doesn't open his eyes.

But yeah, come on, you know. You know what happens next.

Say it with me... Boy10 opened his eyes!

CRAP-O-SMEG!

What did I do?

Well I did what any parent in that situation should do. Well maybe not any. I did what a parent like me would do in that situation.

I gave Boy10 a few moments of utterly, confusing, head-moving about sensations that may terrify and disorientate him for the rest of the night.

I panicked took a calculated risk.

I grab one side of Boy10’s pillow and yank it up.

So Boy10's head is forced to roll away. Then hand with coin in it, reach in, and YES there's something there! But I am in the dark.

So I swop the coin for whatever is under the pillow. Drop the pillow down. A bit too quickly.

Boy10's head lurches back into the middle.

But I am not done.

I then grab the other side of the pillow and pull it up. Sending Boy10's head rolling the other way. Poor lad. Ha ha.

Now with hand with glitter in it free. I throw the glitter in. Let's hope it went somewhere near the coin. I'll never know. I drop the pillow and Boy10's head rolls back into the centre.

Boy10 is now probably confused and wondering what the hell is going on.

And what's the smeg is Dad doing in here?

Shoving what I found under his pillow into my jammies.

I give Boy10 a big hug and say it's OK. Just go back to sleep.

Boy10 is pretty confused and fluttered. No idea why. But really he is mostly asleep.

And in moments, with a bit of a hug, and head tap, closes his eyes once more.

I wish him good night.

And leave the room.

CREEEEEE-EEEEEE-EEEEEAAAAAKKKKKK

The moment I am sure I am safe. I check what it is I got from under his pillow. Thank Bacon and cake and chocolate. It's the tooth.

<Does victory dance>

(My quest is complete... <drops sword>

… I have returned victorious... <drops shield>

now... I can rest…

<Plays on phone for a bit first>)

I get back into my bed.

Pretty pumped. Really frikkin' proud of myself. Rushing really. YEAH!

Tooth fairy work done. I don't think Boy10 will ever know it was me.

YEAH!

Bursting to tell someone.

I nicely jostle see if Mrs. Amazing is awake to tell her the amazing news.

She isn't as excited as I am about it...

I did it! I got the tooth! TADA!

Mrs. Amazing: '... good... Zzzzz...'

YEAH! <Self high-fives> YEAH!

<Struggles to sleep for ages>

X