I don’t ask for many things in life, but my one guilty pleasure since I could shave was to turn on the shower radio, listen to the local radio and enjoy a relaxing shave. The bathroom door seems to have a weird effect on children’s voices and the kids usually wait till I turn on the radio then shout outside “Mumble, mumble, mumble, mumble can I Daddy?” Now in past the past I have got frustrated and shouted “Yes!” only to come out and find the most horrific scene of carnage, my wife screaming “What do you think you are doing?” And the kids pointing at me exiting the bathroom smiling and saying “Daddy said we could!”
Having learnt my lesson, I stopped shaving, turned off the bathroom radio and opened the door, to find Captain Chaos asking “Are you ok, Daddy?” After asking myself why me, I gave a subdued “Yes, I will be out in a minute, after my shower.” I shut the door, turned on the shower radio, and picked up my razor only to injure my neck when my little girl started shouting at the bathroom door. Again I put the razor down, turned off the shower radio, opened the door to my little girl asking what time she could expect breakfast? After explaining that even servants have some time off, and I would attend to her every need after yet again trying to shave, and if anyone, and I mean anyone hammers the door down and asks another question, I will grow a beard and sling the shower radio out of the window in frustration. I thought my little girl would at least look apologetic, but she just answered “Ok Daddy” which meant I had around 6 – 7 minutes before she broke the door down for breakfast.
Having showered and shaved I went to use the toilet, only to have the door burst open like an old western saloon and almost knock me out cold on the floor and my son announced he only had seconds before the bathroom floor re-enacted the great flood. I decided to quit and maybe hold on till tonight and use the bathroom then. So I got dressed ready to take on the day. It was not until later on when I passed the bathroom I spotted a plate that had toast crumbs on it actually on the toilet! Now I am sorry, but we have plenty of rooms, and surly no one would have any excuse for eating in the bathroom. Now unless we had an army of people suddenly for breakfast, and no floor space was available downstairs I wanted answers! Upon questioning it would appear yet again the invisible man came into the house, made toast and sat in the bathroom to eat it. When I see the invisible man I will have plenty of questions, but number one, why eat in the worst room in the house, even our shed is more appealing?
We announced we were going out, and upon giving the usual two hour notice to put coats on, the kids finally got ready and got into the car. It was not until we were five minutes down the road that my little girl announced “When you die Daddy, can you ask God a question for me?” Whoa there my pessimistic tiger, is it ok if we save that for maybe fifty years time or so, I was not planning on meeting my Maker this afternoon, and I am not that old! “Charming!” I thought, “Here we are, planning to enjoy this afternoon, and my kids were plotting my demise in the back of the car!”
We arrived at a furniture shop first to pick up a small item of furniture. Having found it quickly in the warehouse I could not understand why both of my kids were inspecting every glass jar, and studying it like they were not let out of the house that often. It was not until my ‘snack attack monsters’ announced that when we came last time they had chocolate eggs in each jar for the kids, to celebrate Easter. I broke the news that Easter was a long time away, and today there would be no chocolate. I scraped their long faces off the floor, to the mumbles of “This is so boring!” and got to the checkout where I heard a loud “YES!” I turned around to see a jar of sweets by the checkout with both of my kids announcing that they were dying of hunger, and how they had not eaten for ages. Yes Mr. Payments Man it’s ok, I am so mean I starve my kids so we can buy furniture that will be destroyed by tonight, and on the bonfire by morning! The guy dealing with payments said they could have one, having almost seen my son produce a tiny tear which based on the speed I suspect was sweat from trying so hard to win over the payment guy. We quickly paid and set off for a fun afternoon at a local historic house and woods with the promise of an ice cream.
The sun came out and we walked with hope and optimism, feeling proud to be alive. I had a fresh café latte in my hand when my son suddenly announced he needed a wee and could feel it coming. I shot out of my seat like an Olympian, rushed with him to the toilets at the back of the gardens, arriving at a concrete block with slim, I repeat slim cubicles. I shuffled him into the loo that was so small you would have been prosecuted for calling it an en-suite by an estate agent, and helped shuffle him forwards. What happened ruined the rest of my day, when he announced “It’s no good Daddy, I can’t do it.” “What’s the matter son, stage fright, or just false alarm?” “No Daddy, I need a poo!” Why me? Why? Did I do something wrong? He sat on the loo while I gripped the door for comfort and rifled through my pockets for tissues to put up each of my nostrils. I will spare you the details, but suffice to say I was scared for the rest of the afternoon and for the others in the nearby cubicles I am so sorry for the heaving, retching and gagging noises.
When I got back my wife asked why I was looking so peaky, so I explained that our son had just shed half his body weight down the loo, and I was trapped clinging to a door fit for Barbie’s en-suite. I am sure I saw her smirk, but she assures me her tea was just hot.
Having got to bedtime, I was hoping for a Saturday night spent gazing longingly into the television or my wife’s eyes, which depends on who is asking. Just kidding, but I was hoping to spend quality time with my wife, as we never get time together, only for the whole night to be like playing the seafront arcade game ‘Whack- A- Mole’ where you put one to bed, only to find the other downstairs. What I found more scary was the thought that we were all virtually going to bed at the same time, yet, the kids would be waking me up before the birds start singing. Night, night Dorset Dad, tomorrow will be a better day, you’ll see.