One day in front of the Channel 10 cameras and it seems the pressure of growing up in the spotlight is taking its toll on my kids. They’ve become the brat pack. They appear to be acting out and thumbing their noses at authority. Well, not exactly their noses…
“Daaaaad,” came a pained cry from the bathroom. “I don’t want to see that!”
“What’s going on?” I called out helpfully from in front of my laptop. But I had an idea. Usually the thing which is going on in the bathroom which upsets my young son tends to be my six year old daughter mooning him while she’s drying herself.
“Molly!” I called out loudly.
“What?” said a voice behind me. Miss6 was doing some drawing on the coffee table.
“Oh, sorry,” I stammered.
“Daaaaaaad!” Master8 called out again.
Sighing, I stood and begrudgingly made my way to the bathroom to discover what the problem was.
“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” I said to Miss3. She was naked, pointing her bum at her brother.
Miss3 chuckled. She thought she was hilarious.
“This is your fault,” I mumbled to Miss6 as I carried Miss3 to her bedroom to find some clothes. “You taught her this.” Miss6 can often be found in front of the mirror, perfecting her mooning technique.
I’d finally managed to coax some clothes on Miss3 when I had a moment of deja vu.
“Daaaaad,” Master8 called out again from the bathroom.
“Molly!” I called over my shoulder.
“What?” Miss6 again answered me from the coffee table in the lounge room.
“Oh, sorry,” I said again.
I walked into the bathroom to see what Master8 wanted this time and tell him to stop washing his nethers and get out of the shower-
-and there’s Miss9! She’s just turned her back on the shower, hoisted her nighty up and hooked her thumbs into her undies, ready to drop them and moon her brother through the glass.
“Hey!” I stammered. And this is my sensible girl! “What the….get out of here!” She ran past me giggling. “What the hell has got into you kids tonight?”
“She’s such a lady,” said Master8.
But it wasn’t over yet.
I turned to leave and framed in the doorway was Miss6. She’d dropped her undies and was preparing to show her sisters how to do it properly. The Molly Moon has been her signature move since the day she first swapped her nappy for a set of Princess undies.
“Stop!” I said, throwing the appropriate hand signal at her. I must have done this properly because she froze. “Listen up, everyone!” I announced loudly in my best daddy voice. “If your undies are currently kicking about your ankles, pull them up. If you aren’t wearing any undies at all, you need to go and put some on.”
Sorted, I thought to myself.
Until the giggling started again.
I stomped into the bedroom, expecting a naked butt salute but instead all my little cherubs had undies on. Nothing but undies. In fact, multiples of undies. I later learned Miss6 won the tally count with an impressive 16 pairs.
“Well you did tell them they needed to put some on,” Tracey said over my shoulder as I stood gaping, trying to work out where I’d messed up.
On reflection, however, I’ve decided to take this as a win. I think the lack of moon beams shows my authority has been well and truly reestablished.
I mean, it’s good to know they’re listening to what I’m saying at least.
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