“Dad!” said Miss6 this morning.
You’d think by now these kids would know I’m only to be woken for emergencies – fires, floods or the garbo. They’ve never once woken me up for any other reason and received, for example, a lolly.
“Shhh,” I said, and she ducked away.
A few minutes later she tried again.
“Shhh!” I hissed.
“But Dad, you need to get out of bed…”
“Stop talking,” I said. “Go. Away.”
I hadn’t opened my eyes so I didn’t see her leave, but the talking stopped so I figured she’d left the room…
…but I was wrong.
Usually I don’t have to worry about this sort of harassment in the morning because I’ve cleverly positioned myself on the far side of the bed, away from the door, meaning Tracey usually screens my wake up calls. Unfortunately my good wife had selfishly gone to the gym this morning. I don’t know why she’s bothering. I’ve told her if she wants to look thinner I’m prepared to put on another five kilos.
“You really don’t want me to open my eyes.”
“It’s just that…”
“But you need to…”
The problem here is Miss6 was going about it all wrong – she was too wordy. I mean, full points for tenacity but zero for conveying the message in a succinct manner. A few minutes later Miss10 showed her how to get a sleeping father’s attention.
“Poo,” said Miss10.
You see? One word and she almost had one of my eyes open – I decided to wait for the rest of the message before I committed. It wasn’t good news – Miss1 was involved. “She’s in her cot playing with her poo.”
I was out of bed and moving so fast I stubbed my toe on a washing basket because the message to raise my eyelids hadn’t made it through to my face yet. I hobbled quickly into the next room but I was way too late. Miss1 had once again set about replastering her sleeping space.
“Ah, shit!” I said.
Even without the visual, there’s no denying that smell.
“Yeah, well that’s what I was trying to tell you,” said Miss6. There was a noticeable lack of sympathy in her voice, which she gets from her mother.
“Okay, I can see that now,” I told her.
“Maybe you should have got out of bed when I told you to. She only had it on her fingers when I first tried to wake you.”
“Yep, you win. Next time I’ll lis-”
“Shhh! Stop talking,” Miss6 suddenly broke in. “Start. Cleaning.”
I laughed with her at her little joke, but I think we both knew I was being firmly chastised.
When not over here, Bruce Devereaux hangs out at his Big Family Little Income Facebook Page. Come join us 🙂
”Raising a family on little more than laughs.”