Release the prisoners

Our kids have been locked up in our house for two weeks and are at the point where they’re driving their wardens up the wall.

As anyone who has watched Supernanny knows, time seems to take longer for little kids. It must bend or something. I guess that’s why she suggests kids stay on the naughty spot a minute for every year of their age: Three minutes to a three year old is like seven minutes to a seven year old.

Which probably means, for our five year old daughter, she’s been in lock up for about 18 weeks.

Sure, we could make the effort and carry Miss9 to the car and go out more, but this heat has us feeling super lazy and, as excuses go, a broken leg is a good one.

So when we took the family out yesterday on parole the conversation coming from the back seats gave us a big dose of the guilts.

“Look! It’s a blue car!” Suddenly the world was full of colours and people and places. It must be what it’s like to be released from prison. Everything was new and wonderful and much more interesting than before they were incarcerated. “A yellow car! Look! Traffic lights!”

“That’s the soccer ovals! I remember them”

“Oooo McDonalds!”

In a mirror image of the Naughty Corner Time Conundrum, it was a long, long five minute drive for myself and Tracey. Especially me, because they soon made it personal and Tracey sided with the inmates.

“A pink car!” said Miss5. “Dad, you’ve got a pink car.”

“No, I don’t,” I called back to her. “I have a red car. That’s why we call it the Red Rocket.”

“The Red Bucket,” corrected Tracey. Okay, so it’s a little old and crappy.

“Should be the Pink Rocket,” said Master7. Okay, so it’s a little faded.

“The Pink Bucket,” corrected Tracey.

Obviously the whole lot of them are suffering from Cabin Fever.

But if they keep dissing my sad little car I’ll cancel parole and throw them all back in the slammer for another couple of weeks.