Why Parenting Is For Losers
byAs parents I think we’ve all played that game where you don’t perform to your best of your abilities in order to let one of your kids win.
The funner stuff. The dumber stuff. The stuff I stuff up.
As parents I think we’ve all played that game where you don’t perform to your best of your abilities in order to let one of your kids win.
This is a difficult story for me to write…
I’ve spent my holidays trying to show how indispensable I am around the house. So close, and yet, predictably, so very, very far….
After cleaning the house with two kids, I believe I now have an inkling of an understanding how Batman feels trying to keep Gotham safe from The Joker and Twoface.
I’ve noticed, over the years I’ve been with my wife, a worrying lack of nooky on those rare mornings we both happen to wake up before our children. Sure, there’s snuggling, huggling and sometimes canoodling, but no nooky.
“Holy Ship!” said Master9 whilst playing Awesomenauts on the Xbox with Miss10, Miss7 and me.
I paused the game and I turned to my son.
“What?” he said innocently.
My good wife was out for the day being a photographer and I was home alone with the sprogs.
This, I believe, saved her.
Miss4 stood spreadeagled across the doorway to Tracey’s office, refusing to let her mother pass. “What’s the password?” she said.
There’s more to being a tooth fairy than digging into your pocket for small change. But last night, I think I earned my wings.
As any parent will attest, there’s genuine power in a kiss. Healing power, that is. A kiss from a parent can cure almost all boo-boos. Almost…
“You come out of your room again and you’re losing Minecraft for the weekend,” Tracey said to Master8. What? I felt sorry for Master8 but I hadn’t even done anything wrong! Why was I being punished?
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Tracey asked me again. She was going away in the morning so I’d have all the kids. “Piece of cake,” I told her. Proof not all cake tastes good.
“Your son is giving a talk at school on Monday,” Tracey told me as I walked in the door and pecked her cheek. That it was the first thing out her mouth and she was grinning told me I should follow this up.
I pointed at the screen. The email read:
I am a reality tv casting director and would like to talk to you.
The trouble with being the only boy in a house full of girls is you can’t get away from all the girly stuff, and you end up being way too familiar with things like Barbie and Tinkerbell.