If we are being honest with each other, have you ever told a lie? Okay, well now, if we are being honest, this week my wife and I, as parents, lied to our children, and to this day they do not know the truth. During the week an ice cream van went round our estate playing it’s dodgy music from the 1940’s, and both kids asked “What’s that noise?” As quick as a flash my wife announced “That’s just a man in a van that likes to play loud music.” Both kids were happy with this explanation and left the room. Me? I still had visions of some teenager driving a white van with dodgy classical music with his arm out of the window, trying to look cool.
Today my wife was out most of the day, and according to the weather people it was not due to rain until lunchtime at the earliest, so I jumped out of bed and announced we were going to the park, before the rain. My kids got dressed in record time, brushed their gnashers with their chewed up toothbrushes and set off in our light rain coats. I promised the kids we would stop at the bakers for a gingerbread man, yes I did say a gingerbread man. As we entered the bakers both my kids ganged up on me and had a barney over which one they wanted, so I was weak, yes very weak and I bought both types.
While you wag your fingers in your mind, I was saving stress. I then announced that as Daddy was not having a snack, I did want a takeaway coffee from the nearby coffee shop. It was at that moment both my kids announced they were “dying of thirst” and needed a drink of water. When I got into the coffee shop, I was dying, but from empty wallet disease at £2 a bottle of water. How come when we are home you never want any of the free, out of the tap, water, but suddenly developed a raging thirst at the coffee shop? What made it worse was that my extra large cup of coffee was only a few pennies more, and someone had ground the beans, milked the coffee and heated the water. All the mineral water company had done was found some old river apparently with water filtered through a mountain and bottled it. To me it felt like I had been robbed in broad daylight. So far we had not made it to the park, and I was nearly £15 out of pocket!
We set off at a record pace to the park (in case the kids needed new clothes to go there!) I sat on a picnic bench with my budget cup of coffee and prepared for a rest while the kids played, except my son asked “What are you doing, Daddy?” I was then told to get up and push him on the swing. I started pushing and asked him to swing his legs whilst I grabbed my coffee. This lasted a few seconds until he announced “Nope, no good, Daddy, I’m slowing down.” Hang on my keen exercise fanatic, you do have to swing your legs with effort, not so slow you couldn’t waft a tissue off the ground. I would not mind but I had not even managed to pick up my coffee yet! I walked back and pushed him even faster, in the hope I could get him high enough so I could run back and slurp my coffee. I had only stopped pushing for a second, when I was told to keep pushing. Now I was in a moral dilemma as my budget coffee, which had cost me a small fortune along with mineral waters filtered through some iffy river, and gingerbread men, was getting colder by the minute. I kept pushing until, at last, I managed to grab thirty seconds within which I could enjoy what was left of my lukewarm coffee. As I picked it up the heavens to open with rain! Well that’s charming! Everyone was conspiring against me! I knocked back my lukewarm budget coffee and as I turned around, my son had turned hunter gatherer and picked up half a tree to walk down the road, like a keen walker.
As we walked down the road I asked the kids what they would like for lunch, at the same time asking my son who was now using the tree come stick as a rod for beating anything not moving, to stop hitting everything. Both my kids announced “Cheese, Daddy!” So we popped to the supermarket, grabbed cheese and some bread and started the walk home in the rain. As we passed a puddle with bright colours my son asked “What’s that, Daddy?” Before I could answer that the puddle of bright colours was some petrol spilt in the road, my little girl piped up with “Oh that’s where a unicorn died.” What!? How on earth did she come to that conclusion, and more disturbing why was she was not laughing? She seemed to really believe this! I was already booking an appointment in my mind to see her teacher and ask what the curriculum was teaching her these days!
As we arrived home with myself still reeling from the dead unicorn incident, it was an afternoon filled with arguments and tantrums, which I would love to say got better but then I cooked dinner. I decided to do mini pizzas and pile more cheese than a dairy on top, for an extra special pizza. Having lovingly prepared them I put them out, and placed drinks in hands and prepared a left over pasta dish from yesterday that was just enough for myself. No sooner had the microwave pinged than my son announced he could not eat the pizza. I rushed round and asked what was wrong, and wondered what I had done wrong, only for my son to say he could not eat the pizza as “…it smelled.” Well that’s a new one, imagine going onto a cooking television show only to be told, well that’s a great finish, good texture, great preparation but sorry it smells. In the end I gave him my pasta dish and sobbed in his left over ‘smelly pizza’ complete with slobber marks.
So in conclusion if you come round my house to dinner, my evening speciality is smelly pizza and drink from a cartoon cup. Wow how my cooking has really moved forward!
Night, night everyone, see you all next week!