As a seasoned stay-at-home dad I should know better than to do a big shop with little helpers.
I guess it's like my relationship with KFC; every few years I just need reminding of why it's best avoided.
The warning signs were all there. Their eagerness to help for a start, that's not normal.
Like Riding a Bike
100 Years Young
Community Partner Award - Pride of Britain
I'm on notice. In September Sonny starts school, Luca Nursery, and I'll be a year closer to my early retirement; or actively looking for work if Janet asks.
Obviously we'll need to discuss my retirement plans, just not before my six month Saga cruise has left port.
I love a good sports day, although I prefer to call it by its proper name, Sky Sports Super Sunday.
School Sports Day on the other hand ...
I try to remain enthusiastic. No really, I do. But there comes a point, normally around heat 32 of the sack race, where it starts to wane.
When I first became a stay-at-home dad I always intended to write a retrospective post about my experiences. Of how I entered a traditionally mothers environment as the 'minority dad' and came out the other side.
In my head I already knew what I was going to write. How facilities aren't geared towards dads.
I'm good at doing nothing. Really good. I'm not blowing my own trumpet, that would be doing something, and my expertise is definitely in doing nothing.
In its purest form I'm a master. I can sit on the sofa without distraction and do absolutely nothing for hours.
When Janet asks what I'm thinking,
"Nothing", is an honest reply.
Luca: “Is it a school day? AGAIN? Next year can you buy a calendar with less school days?”
It's sweet that Luca thinks I control the calendar year. Sweeter still, he thinks that were I to make changes he'd be a net beneficiary? Like a token bank holiday would come close to compensating for my decimation of their school holidays.
Every few years we have a weekend away with our extended family of Bryce/Mackies. The Mackies head South of the border, and we drive North until we meet half-way; in a beautifully converted barn in the Lake District.
The wonderful Sam Coleman of dustandlove.com fame is running a competition for fiction. Three hundred words or less on the subject of parenting.
This takes me well outside of my comfort zone but I thought I'd have a go anyway.
Thanks for reading. I recommend heading straight over to dustandlove.
I think I once ate at a restaurant called Yo-kai. It was memorable for paying ten times the price for raw fish as my local chippy would have charged me to batter and fry it, but my sushi rant is probably better served in a different post.
Not in this house it's not. In this house, post-truth is when I've told Janet I've cleaned the house, only for her to return from work to discover it wasn't necessarily based on objective facts.