Dorset Dad Diary – Part VI

October Half Term

Sunday 28th October

Oh Diary, did I get myself into trouble this morning, and all before breakfast! Captain Chaos asked for his favourite breakfast, which involves copious amounts of chocolate spread. Now amazing as it is, I don’t personally like chocolate, especially chocolate spread. I served the chocolate spread, and it must have been bad, as Captain Chaos grabbed the tray and said “Mummy never gives this much!” At that point I knew it was bad, and when my wife got downstairs I was properly ‘in the dog house’.

On to church, I was organising a children’s activity which involved getting paper and bits together. Once I had completed that I had only one job to do, which was to keep an eye on our two kids. I had carried out this task well for around half an hour, but things went down the pan when we went to the church coffee bar and I turned to order a coffee. In that instance they both disappeared together and panic ensued, which involved a frantic search. At that point my wife, who was playing the piano, looked through a window and saw me without two kids, and shouted “Are the kids okay?” I was like a bank robber caught on CCTV cameras, just frozen in horror. My wife realised what had happened and informed me of their whereabouts.

When I found the children I explained I had lost about several years of my life through worry and to stick with me. “Like lorry signs,” I explained, “If you cannot see me, I cannot see you.”

“Mummy never gives this much!”

All appeared to be going well until a giant paper aeroplane flew past everyone. Only one person could be responsible, so I gave the look, and in turn he gave me a grin. Is it okay Diary, if we say that I won, you know just between you and me!

After church we went from punch up to lunch, then for dessert we had punch ups. It was a very long afternoon, and I was glad to sit down to dinner in the evening, to a classic chicken roast. I put the first roast potato in my mouth, and nearly sprayed my dinner over the table when my little girl said she was having triplets when she was older. After almost choking, my little girl said they were going to be called Seth, Isabelle and Harold. Harold? Sorry if you’re called Harold, nothing wrong with that, but not quite sure why she was inspired to call one of her triplets Harold! My little girl was in waffle mode and at one point I was Granny, then suddenly she realised the mistake and said I was promoted to Grandpa status. Phew!

The worrying conversation was over pudding when she said her triplets were living in the house with her Mummy, and that left one question, where was I sleeping? I have a feeling that when I am old and retired and every joint in my body is clapped out, I will be in the two man tent in the garden that the kids play in. So all that hard work, paying off the mortgage every month, was money well spent for Harold, Seth and Isabelle.

Instead of saving to pay off the mortgage quicker, I may start saving for an air bed and better tent. Night, night Diary, talk tomorrow.

Missed the start of my Diary? Why not catch up?