Holiday Mark IV, I’m So Hungry Daddy

As I packed up from work the night before our holiday everyone said you must be so excited as I left the building. As soon as I got home though, the rain started and the heavens opened. This was to be a sign of how the first twenty four hours were to start. My little girl woke up before the birds, and was already packing everything not bolted down, and this was before my wife started on her usual holiday ‘entertainment duty’. In fact this thought was short lived as my wife said she had already packed one potty, and was asking to pack two. Seriously, unless our son develops a drinking problem, and needs to urinate every twenty seconds, I think we will be ok with one potty my little ray of loveliness!

Captain Yawn then arose from his pit and came down clutching a pile of old birthday cards. I caught him packing them, which for me was the last straw, and pleaded with him not to pack them, as I had just dealt with Mummy who was now asking to pack enough potties for the entire family to allow them to remain incontinent for an entire week!

I did have to laugh as my wife was now tidying the house and hoovering. I built up the courage to ask why she was tidying for burglars, or was the house for sale and no one told me. Seriously, no one was going to be home, so why hoover? The response I got was “So it looks nice when we get home!” Now I don’t like to disappoint anyone but our house looks like a permanent bomb disposal training ground, and when we tidy the training ground the kids empty the toy box around the house. Once the kids have finished giving our house the lived in look, one of them drops their drink, or throws up so that our carpet looks like something we found at the local dump and brought it home to die in peace. No I am so sorry princess, but I would not recognise a tidy house, and when we get home from holiday it will look like a war torn disaster zone before I get through the front door. I decided for a quiet life and slumped on the sofa.

I say slumped on the sofa but every breath was interrupted by my little girl with a “Can we go yet?” Sorry my little Keen Bean, but Mummy is currently refurbishing the house, so we need to hang on a few hours. This carried on until the kids brought various battery toys to ask if I could put new batteries in them. In my view this is another tax on parents, and I must have spent so much of my hard earned wages on batteries that I should own shares in a power station by now.

Finally my wife decided the house was good enough for royalty and gave the all clear. I packed the kids in the car, and their toys and knew it was bad when I closed the door and was asked a question though the glass, so I opened the car door again. As I opened the car door a sea of toys flowed out and I found myself on the floor throwing toys back in. Ok, bags packed and in case you are getting ready to burgle my house, please could you remove your shoes as my wife has left it tidy for you! I put the key in the car, and started down the road thinking nothing could go wrong now, until my sat nav decided my house was in the middle of the road, and I was halfway to nowhere. Now I was faced with a sat nav that could not even tell I was at the end of my road, so even my sat nav had given up on life. No problems, being technically minded we whipped out a mobile phone, and asked the way. After a few hours with no motorway, and no sign of civilisation I was beginning to panic, and my wife was now questioning did I type in the right postcode?

Ok situation report, currently going on a road my wife is not sure about, the sat nav is still dead, and my kids are questioning if this is the road to hell? Well I was now very stressed with roads going left and right where a decision was needed. This decision was fraught with stress on a level not seen since the last world war. Just as I was ready to pull over and start drinking from our car radiator, an oasis appear in the vision of a farm shop with a dairy and more ice cream than a battleship could sink. The delight was that not only were they so good to taste, and passed my kids seal of approval but they were also cheap! It was not until my wife saw a newsagent that my wallet started to shiver in my pocket, with my kids picking up comics costing £5.99 which I am sure were £5 cheaper around two hours ago when we last saw civilisation. We packed the kids in the car and the first I knew that they had found my packet of yummy scrummy crisps was when they were passing the small broken bits forward.

As we arrived at the cottage I was ready to hug my phone who despite going to hell and back had delivered us to the holiday destination, but my mouth was dryer than my under crackers so I decided against this show of affection. As I open the kids back doors, they shot out like a rabbit at a dog track and I was left scraping the bags across the car park like a chimpanzee while my kids waved at the top. I crawled through the threshold on all fours much less of a man than when I first started the day. That’s ok kids, when I get elderly and clapped out I am going to scream “I can feel a wee coming”, ask “Are we nearly there yet?” every twenty seconds, and clear off at record speed and wave at the bedroom windows. Cannot wait for holidays when I get older, in fact I am preparing my “I’m so hungry the lights are fading, kids!” speech as we speak! Does the holiday get better, or does the Dorset Dad suffer again? Find out next week!!