Feeling Lonely Daddy?

Either my wife or myself had to get up early today and serve tea or coffee, so I did the gentlemanly thing and volunteered my wife. While my wife was gone, my little girl hibernated in her bedroom, and Captain Chaos roamed the house like a soldier without a mission. After a little while he asked if I could play Lego with him, and boy did we build. Captain Chaos built a space city, so I extended this so far we were running out of floor space. I turned to Captain Chaos and proudly announced “Ta-da!” What followed was awkward silence, followed by “Can you make it bigger?” Sure son, as soon as I have extended our house into the next street, and we gain more floor space, otherwise I am out of Lego, floor space and the will to live. I went to make a coffee when Captain Chaos came back announcing “Where’s mummy?” I joked around that I had eaten her, when he virtually exploded, announcing “Don’t be funny, just tell me where she is!” It sounded serious, so I gently asked “Can I help?” Apparently as a dad I am useless, because he simply said “I just need a snack.” Check out my body Captain Chaos, you see those two dangly things by my side, no that’s not Lego, those are arms, and they are amazing at getting out the biscuit tin.

Suddenly the room started spinning, my wallet shook like a disco dancer, and I started breathing funny!

I fed Captain Chaos a snack, taming my wild lion, and my wife arrived home to cheers of my children who had been left with the most incompetent dad any child could wish for. After all, they were not even sure I could feed them. I did not like to break it to them that not only can I cook for others, but I can cook for myself too, and had survived thus far, so I was sure I could feed them. It was the local food festival today, so we marched into town ready to grab food, and dine like a king. On entering the food festival I realised we were to dine like a pauper, as the prices were just shy of a kings ransom. We started with being robbed for face painting, and depending on the design chosen depended on how much you were charged. Yes, you guessed it both my children’s chose the most expensive, then we passed a fudge stall, and both kids had a hissy fit, so we treated them to a bag each. Now so far very few food stalls had been passed, mostly market stalls selling non food related items. Forgive me for sounded cranky, but the adverts definitely said ‘Food Festival’, not old market bits, dresses and trinkets. Why so cranky Dorset Dad? Well one of my kids properly kicked off and although I cannot tell you why, and who, suffice to say we were ‘that’ parent with a child kicking off, and promptly set off for home, with faces that looked like they had tasted my underpants.

I sat on the sofa feeling sorry for myself, and said I would produce a barbecue, at this point I got an email to say I had been signed up for a £149 music subscription. Suddenly the room started spinning, my wallet shook like a disco dancer, and I started breathing funny. Apparently one of my kids had clicked an advert and signed me up. Ten minutes later I was phoning the company begging them to cancel it, virtually in hands and knees. Following the good news that the new subscription was cancelled, my kids danced while I cooked a barbecue.

I brought hot food back, announcing to my kids how busy Daddy had been, with blood, sweat, tears, burns marks and sweat on my brow, for both kids to announce they both wanted to sit next to mummy. So that was three people on one side of the dinning table, which is a shade bigger than a lunch box, and me on the other side ‘Billy no mates.’ Captain Chaos took pity on me, and offered to sit next to me to keep me company. Thanks son, I was feeling a little worried for a moment that I was virtually useless, and would be thrown out with the non recycling rubbish on Thursday.

Captain Chaos promptly opened his burger bap and squirted enough tomato ketchup to ensure a) the burger looked like a post mortem, and b) a sugar high of biblical proportion would follow shortly. Captain Chaos said he would eat every drop, but that’s what worried me. Having cleared the plates from the most stressful Sunday so far, my wife outdone herself, and asked the kids to clear up on their own. This was like covering a human in steak and asking them to dance in a lion cage, with lions that had not been fed for days. Arguments ensued, and my wife shouted commands like a smart speaker, only for the words “I don’t understand” to come back.

I flopped on the sofa a broken and lonely man, with my wife offering ice cream. I realised if I am being thrown out, at least I had a tummy fully of ice cream.

Hopefully see you all next week, as long as my kids agree to keep me!