Thirty-something Dad

I have entered a blogger’s challenge (Wife’s idea). Today is Day One and the prompt is “Who am I?”  Now, as the throngs of avid readers of my blog and the jostling horde of my eager subscribers (yes, that’s a shout-out to the five of you – love you guys) may well already know, I am not particularly forthcoming when it comes to divulging certain personal particulars on the web, and I like it that way. So this challenge, well, sucks for me. Anyhoo, a challenge is called a challenge for a reason, so here goes…

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I get the message at work:

“Guess what your child has done.”

It’s just after one ‘o clock in the afternoon, so it’s obviously to do with Youngest.

I’ll just get to it.  My four-year-old, at school, had decided that a particular chunk of hair was the source of such irritation that it deserved the full wrath of her ire and thus be sentenced to  permanent separation from her head. The weapon of her justice: a tiny pink pair of blunted kiddies scissors.Read More

Conversation overheard in my house:

“Mom it’s not where you said it is.” That’s Eldest, my eight-year old.

“Yes it is. Just look properly and you’ll see it. On the desk.”

“I AM looking properly! It’s not here.”

“If I come up there and find it . . .”

“Come look. It’s not here.”

Footsteps stomping up the stairs. . .Read More

I am about to share the worst moment of my life with you.

Three years ago my Youngest stopped breathing.

My two girls had fevers that day. It was a Sunday. We had covered the lounge floor with pillows, the girls atop them were watching movies with the Wife on the couch and I was nearby, just outside the patio door. It had been raining off and on that day.

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Eldest (8) now has a library card. So, being a braggart, I obviously flaunt the fact to my work colleagues. Why? Probably to give the giant “HERE BE A DAD” sign that I wear around my neck a bit of a spit and polish. So, there I am, smugly showing off my parenting prowess, when a rather astute workmate asks, “Why not get a Kindle? That way you’ll have all the books you could possibly want.”

I tried to answer wittily but failed to do so. Did I miss a trick here? I mean, it felt right; taking her to the library and nurturing a relationship between her and literature. I think I lamely replied along the lines of, “Because I want her to respect books,” but that rang false.

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