Time To Wake Up To Myself
byI wouldn’t dream of hurting my kids…or so I thought.
I wouldn’t dream of hurting my kids…or so I thought.
If I came home with a head like Tracey’s just given me I’d be unhappily married until my scalp was hidden again.
I’m currently perched on a stool at a cafe tapping into my laptop and wondering if it’s safe to go home yet.
Tracey was standing in the door posing sexily in a way which always makes me chuckle for the cheeky audacity of this wonderful woman. But as a husband with 16 years experience I knew this was no time to relax. This was a test.
Some loud bangs in the kitchen alerted me to the fact my wife was looking for something.
Sometimes we think about the next ten years and shudder like the family car being driven by a sixteen year old learner driver learning stick shift for the very first time
Not many men have gone this close to making a truly fatal mistake and lived to tell the tale…
Why is it, unlike my wife, I never think of these clever ways to create the illusion that Dad knows everything?
The best way to get a break from the kids is to give them something to occupy themselves with. Right? I wish…
I was really looking forward to getting home because my darling wife was going to give me something I’ve always wanted…
I call it helping. My wife calls it inciting violence.
“Notice anything odd?” Tracey asked me as Miss3 ran to join her siblings. There’s always something odd to notice at our house, but in this instance I thought I knew what she meant…
Clippers and scissors are to my wife what hammers and screwdrivers are to me. Last time she attempted to cut hair Master8 took on the physical characteristics of a Dr Seuss character.
Even when the cast came off and her left leg was covered in tiny dark hairs, Miss9 didn’t complain at all. In fact, she thought it was hilarious.