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>

Let Her Go... To School

Miss4 starts school in 3 weeks. 

Miss4’s not ready. She's not. She is still far too tiny and little.

It only takes a little push to knock her over, look:

<Shoves Miss4>

<Miss4 falls over and starts crying>

See! And I'm her Dad, I love her. Other kids are way meaner.

Which is why the first child that makes my daughter cry by being mean and spiteful, I will personally deck. Don't worry I'll be careful, no one will see, I'll make it look like an accident. It'll be fine. I suppose that’s not very Zen or grown up, but it’s hard to fight off my protective nature.

If you see me decking your child, you now know why. I’ll apologise later.

Oh all right… I promise I won’t deck anyone, it’s a bit mean. I’ll just give them evil looks, and then deck them later. 

I am worried though. I'm worried because I know what playgrounds are like (well used to be like). Gangs of 4-5 year old's with their hitting bats, tripping hoops, hand cuffing ropes, roving around in gangs, pretending to play nice.

But the second no one is looking, the heavies will 'introduce' themselves to Miss4.

Boss: 'Not seen your face before...' <Stubs out candy fag>

'It's my first day'

Boss: 'Oh is it? Well we don't like newies here... Ya follow?'

<Miss4 thinks>

'Poo poo!'

Boss: 'Oh dear, dear, dear' <cracks knuckles>

Boss: 'We don't seem to be getting through to you, do we Colin'

Colin: 'No. No, we don't boss, you want I should deal with 'er?'

Boss: 'Yeah... Hoop her!'

'Poo poo! POO POO! PO- '

<Miss4 tears>

(...and these are your classmates)

Argh!!! Why do I do this to myself. What a horrible image.

That's it she's staying home and being home taught. It probably won't affect her that badly, I'm sure Mrs. Amazing would love to spend the next 11 years listening to Miss4 talk all day, every day.

I'll ask her...

<Suggests home-schooling for Miss4>

‘UN-TYPE-ABLE ANSWER’

Well that’s just plain rude...

There really wasn't any need for that kind of language...

… Best Miss4 go to school then.

I hope Miss4 will be tough. I want her to be fierce and strong. I want Miss4 to stand up for herself and if needs be, go down fighting. Or biting. Or scratching. Or screaming Poo-poo.

I want her to stick her middle finger up every time some idiot tells her that girls can't do that or that girls are crap at whatever. I hate that thinking.

I want to hear she nutted some twonk who made her feel bad about her physical presence in some way.

I am going to find it really hard to let Miss4 go and grow up. School is just the start of letting her go. She’s my little princess and I'd rather she didn't grow up quite so fast.

<Weeps>

(We found a fairy at the allotment...)

I didn't feel like this with Boy8. He was off on an adventure on his own and I was excited for him. I knew that he was going to have to find his own way in life and at school. I knew that if I helped too much, I would only hinder him. He needed to establish himself at school, find his own place in the pecking order. I could help and offer advice from the sidelines obv. but it was up to him.

So why is it any different for Miss4? Why don't I feel the same?

Secretly I know the answer…

... It isn't any different.

It's going to be the same for Miss4, but not in any boy way that I know about, in a girl way. Which I don’t really understand or have any experience of (I don’t).

It’s not going to be long until Miss4 is totally immersed in a world I really don’t understand at all. Best I can do is watch and listen, and ask Mrs. Amazing to translate what on earth she is talking about.

Still… There’s still a few things I can teach her that might help:

OK... I’ll show you some basic moves...

Grab here

'Uh huh'

Twist and then step through them

'Yep'

Once they're on the floor, twist here

'Then threaten here?'

Ooo... <Winces>

Yeah that'll work

Midway Through Summer Holidays

Half way through the summer Holidays and the magic that is 'Summer Holidays' has finally worked on our family. Family life has shifted down a gear or ten and it's lovely.
They are all less nuts.

The school run has been forgotten about (for now). No longer does Team Parent (yay!) have to battle three children into a car, fight through traffic, to deliver Boy8 on time; clothed, with bag, with homework, with water, lunch, and has been frisked for excessive Lego contraband.

It took Boy8 ages to wind down.

My not-so-little-but-still-pretty-little dude was exhausted after his year at school. He needed this break.

The difference in him is so dramatic, even I spotted it after Mrs. Amazing drew my attention to it through semaphore.

He's finding things to do on his own. All those toys that were ignored because we are just too busy. He's finding time for those. 

Not this though (ewwww):

(Oh look a typo... that should be double ‘O’ and a ‘L’ )

The morning routine has changed to a more "whenever" affair and everyone is chilled. Yay.

Well everyone, except me. I'm confused. I'll explain.

Normally we all gather together in Team Parents bed for the morning. We all get a drink, tea for those that need it, juice for those that need it, -but are right grotbags about it and refuse it,- milk for BabyBoy1, and more tea for those that need it.

Here you go <Passes lovely expensive juice to Miss4>

'NO!'

Don’t be rude...

<Passes another juice to Boy8> Here ya go

<Boy8 drinks it in 1 second>

Boy8: 'Can I have Miss4's?'

No she needs to...

'Yukky' <Miss4 sticks out tongue>

'She doesn't want it can I have it' <Boy8 grabs for drink and burps>

No! No! No! <Snatches back drink>

She needs to drink her drink and you're just guzzling them

<Gets grumpy>

You have this <Shoves drink into Miss4's hands>

<Boy8 burps>

… and drink it <Shakes fist>

and you <Glares at Boy8> stop burping

OK! <Is wound up and annoyed after only 2 mins of the day>

<Boy8 burps>

Let's just all sit here quietly and watch the tele… Drinking our drinks

<Gives Miss4 a look>

Although to be honest if BabyBoy1 doesn't get his milk within the first 30 seconds on him being in our room. He tends to get really pissed off and screamy. Fair enough really I'm the same at the pub.

Then, drinks ignored or drunk, we sit as nicely as we can and watch some cartoons. I love cartoons.

Team parents know what cartoons are on, and plan getting up accordingly.

If we find ourselves still in bed when 'Mr. Men' is on, we're all going to be late.

It's a simple system but it works for us.

Except for when I forget because I love 'Mr. Men' only I have to get somewhere on time.

What are we watching, my eyes aren't working yet?

<Necks tea and wishes he had another>

Boy8: 'Mr. Men'

We don't normally watch Mr. Men?

'Meh'

<Brain clicks and whirs as tea enters blood stream>

OH CRAP! <Leaps out of bed>

Mrs. Amazing: Don't you have to get to work?

<Frowns and pulls on BatSuit as quick as possible>

(Will make me you late for work)

And then it gets worse from there. I am now rushing and no one else is.

It feels very similar to fighting your way out of circular rapids at the pool covered in children. You're going the wrong way and everyone looks at you as though you you're an idiot and doesn't help.

So I dress, make agonising t-shirt choices, race down stairs and start making everyone breakfast.

Porridge for Miss4, wheaty-crap for Boy8, porridge for BabyBoy1.

I don't do Mrs. Amazing's breakfast as that would require mind reading abilities that have so far escaped me. I've tried before to read her mind and present her with a breakfast she wants, but I've never succeeded. She likes to choose.

I have toast with peanut butter on, but cannot eat it at the table otherwise BabyBoy1 wants it rather than his porridge.

Then because it's nice for us all to eat together apparently, I don't eat right away. Instead I busy myself with the dishwasher or the washing machine, or picking the most awesome music mix to put on, whichever is most pressing.

All the while getting later and later for work.

Eventually, once 90% of the jobs in the kitchen have been done.

Miss4 swans in:
<Smiley voice> Your porridge is on the table!

'Yukky'

She then proceeds to walks straight past me and flops face first on the sofa saying 'poo poo'.

Boy8 races in brandishing an 'upstairs' noisey toy:

Take that back upstairs immediately

Your breakfast is on the table

'OK'

<Throws toy on floor>

<Starts annoying Miss4 on sofa>

<Does not start eating breakfast>

Finally (yes finally, I'm feeling brave) Mrs. Amazing comes down for breakfast holding BabyBoy1.

She puts him down and he instantly dives for the fridge with the plan of removing everything from the fridge. Just because he can.

I grab BabyBoy1, child-lock the fridge, then tie him into his high chair and start feeding him.

And that's always nice. I like sitting there feeding my little boy. He's very cute and I get some quality time with him.

We smile at each other, he's getting the hang of saying 'more more more'. It's sweet.

The awesome music mix I choose goes slightly off course and sweary lyrics start filling the room.

Music: She may not be a geni-us...

Music: But she loves a big p... <Off click>

Whilst changing tracks I put my toast on, as Mrs. Amazing has now sat and taken over feeding BabyBoy1.

Miss4 and Boy8 are still absent from the table.

Toast pops and I forget about it whilst making another round of tea, before remembering and having to peanut butter cold toast.

I know cold toast isn't that different... But it just is, it's crap. Damn it.

'Aren't you going to be late?'

DAMN IT!

I pelt upstairs, shine my head, awaken my mouth with minty freshness, and put on smell-hider.

I find no one watching 'Mr. Men' and flick it off, turn everyone's light off in their rooms and finally race back downstairs, with cups and juice cartons.

In the kitchen I find BabyBoy1 happily eating my toast with peanut butter the cute swine.

Miss4 and Boy8 are now both sitting nicely at the table.

However, their breakfasts that I made are still untouched. Instead they are both engaged in a board game with Mrs. Amazing.

I announce that I'm off to work and get half hearted byes.

I grab a cuddle off BabyBoy1 and get covered in toast and peanut butter. Yay.

I go around the clan hugging the others, who give me a half hearted hug me back, but really they are concentrating on their board game.

It makes me happy to see them all wound down enjoying their summer holiday, it really does. They all needed it.

And I swear, as I left for work, one of them, almost, looked up as I walked out the door.

Almost.
<Weeps>