It’s Called Father Son Bonding

I’m sure someone is feeding my little girl lyrics from a song during the night, and then when she wakes up she just recalls them. As my eyelids burst open this morning I was expecting the worst, you know, things like there’s been a small accident with the tap in the kitchen, or my personal favourite is a toy that was last played with three years ago is missing, but I must have it!

Today embarked a new era, a wonderful era filled with fancy words and schmoozing, which means its going to cost someone. Call me a cynic but I knew this was only going to cost me when my little girl came in, and my wife asked “What woke you up?” My little girl replied “Oh you know, the sound of love.” What do you say to that? I was left stuck for words scratching my head when she then asked could she watch tv downstairs? Ok, so I knew there was a reason for the schmoozing!!

My family were visiting so I was the one jumping out of bed like a five year old on Christmas day, and showering and changing in record time. I promised a barbecue to end all barbecues. So to start with I was preparing my famous rub for the meat filled with citrus flavours, culminating in a smoky sweet taste. What I was not prepared for was the missing ingredient! My son came into the kitchen and I really felt it was father/son bonding time, and barbecuing was the new rite of passage. I handed him the bowl, and despite losing focus I carried on. At the end of the recipe it calls for four table spoons of sugar, dark sweet sugar that caramelises with the heat, and despite me asking for full tablespoons, it took around fifteen tablespoons of sugar to get four ‘full’ tablespoons! I battled on patiently and although it had taken twice as long, my son and I were bonding. The final ingredient was just about to be poured in, when my son let out an almighty sneeze straight into the bowl, leaving a shiny gloss over the whole rub. It looked like a snail had a disco in the bowl to a seventies hit, and left late in the morning for a doner kebab! I binned the lot, said bonding time was over and went to the shops for more ingredients.

By the time I had made the new batch of rub, (in total secret this time, as time was ticking on, and we did not have time for more father/son bonding,) the guests were arriving. My little girl entered the kitchen and she makes the best burgers, so I was fairly happy with father/daughter bonding as she pretty much does everything herself, although when the mince meat went in, she did ask “Is this brains, Daddy?” Whoa there my little science fiction addict, no this is not, and I would not be eating it if is was! She followed up with “Well it looks like it!” I somehow don’t think she will growing up to be a food blogger, or one of those TV chefs that glams up food. As she finished I insisted she washed her hands again, so I gave her a brand new hand towel and she rubbed her hands dry and threw it down by the washing machine. I must have cried out, or inhaled breath, as she asked “Sorry, shall I hang that back up”. Sorry but no, it now has so many hairs on the towel, we would need to shave it, before we could use it again, lets just get a new one out.

As the sun came out, so did my wife’s excitement, and she brought out a new bottle of sun tan lotion, and said “Look its a rollerball!” She was excited as a teenager in a pizza store. I was a little worried someone was already affected by the hot sun. Sorry, but I cannot get excited by sun tan lotion, even if it does have a rollerball on it. My wife explained but I just did not get it, that’s just as well my little flower because whatever you have, I don’t want it. I am sorry but I am saving my excitement for another day, just not on a sunny day, with a bottle of white lotion and a rollerball.

I normally end my blog with a funny statement but today I felt a little sad watching my close family leave and go three hours home, but it reminded me of how precious the gift of family is, and the joy it brings. For my family, you know who you are, I love you guys. To my wife I love you loads, and for my son, no you cannot take the indicators off the car again but we’ll find something else you can dismantle, and to my little girl, yes you can have the TV remote to yourself, that’s how much Daddy loves you!