Not Another Hour Daddy

There’s not many things I get excited about, but the prospect of another hours sleep as the clocks go back almost got a yelp of excitement from my body. Maybe it’s the bloodshot eyes, or many mornings of being woken to “Breakfast, Daddy” to find out it’s Saturday and only 5am. Now my excitement of an extra hour was soon dampened when my wife announced this great joy to our kids, which was greeted with moans and groans and “Not another hour!” My wife told the kids that they were under strict orders to stay in their room for this extra hour. Now I consider myself an optimist, but even I couldn’t believe that this would happen, even in a perfect family where the kids make no mess!

I could tell my wife was as desperate as can be. It was the subtle hints that gave it away like setting the special clock so it shows Mr Sunshine indicating when they can get up. Forgive me, my little ray of sunshine, but is this the same clock that they managed to figure out the secret button on and wind it forward or back to suit their own needs and claim a failure of the clock as they hadn’t touched it? Ok, sorry, I just needed to clarify that this was the same clock. Being the ever obedient husband I duly went and set the clock knowing full well this was going to be as successful as a leaving a packet of sweets on the kitchen table and saying “Don’t touch!”

My kids were still questioning my wife downstairs as I appeared with questions like “What about those abroad?” The kids then started to impress us with their geography and, like a sat nav, started naming countries and asking what about them. It was as if the extra hour was sent just to punish my kids! If this conversation went on much further I would cave in, email our Prime Minister, and petition them to stop this cruelty to kids, especially for my two who have no idea who you are.

Well I am sure you are dying to know how the situation went. Did our two idyllic children obey my wife and not touch the clock, or did they concoct a marvellous excuse worthy of an award? Well the truth is as bright as a button at 5am, yes, that was am, my little girl came marching in, and announced she had a tummy ache, but amazingly thirty minutes later after breakfast, sellotape, and so much paper I have to keep the curtains closed in case environmentalists find out where the waste paper mountain is coming from, she was a right as rain.

As for me, I am currently emailing our Prime Minister on behalf of our children asking why the clocks change to punish only my two children!