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Buckle up dad, you’ve got the kid for pretty much the whole day. Doesn’t happen very often. Always a reminder of how ridiculously hard a full day of child care is. And how even when you’re old 12 hours can pass very, very slowly (even when you’re having fun).
A day with a 26 month old has it all: laughs, tears, blood and wee. Those are all the things right? No, also porridge. And some singing. Or in Phoebe’s case shouting. But that was even better. And man, could she shout something that vaguely fitted to the basic tune and rhythm of Twinkle Twinkle?
What a team we are when she forgets she prefers her mum (not very often). After a blurry early morning of TV and childish games, we got the bus to football. I was feeling a little bit sensitive due to two days of mild afternoon drinking (and man a couple of beers would really have helped this morning), but Phoebe was upbeat and didn’t seem hungover at all. After a brief bit of early shyness, she was dashing around the park. Whenever she’s asked what she had for breakfast she says “banana”, even though she hasn’t actually had it. I don’t know why she’s lying. Today she was asked her favourite colour and said “banana”. Maybe she just thinks that is an acceptable answer to everything.
Last week I had forgotten to offer her her potty and there had been an accident on the way home (which I felt almost partly responsible for) but today I not only managed to remember to get out the portable potty, I could construct it and change the bag afterwards.
I was acing it.
We then got the bus home and stopped off at a nearby playground for swings and slides and I felt I was ready for bed. But Phoebe was running around, so fast that she went flying and landed on the path, hurting her palms and drawing blood. It was horrible to see her in pain, but scuffing is all part of growing up and she was fairly brave about it. Braver than I would have been. She was soon picking dandelion clocks and I was made to look like a lying idiot when this was the one dandelion clock in the world that hung on to its seeds no matter how hard you blew. I am such an adult now that I am not even going to make a joke about that.
I gave her lunch and got her to sleep and tried to use the 90 or so minutes to get some work done. I largely failed. And also in my excitement at being such an awesome dad I had forgotten to offer her the potty before she slept, so for the second week running, if you were so inclined, you could entirely blame me for my daughter wetting herself. I would have gotten away with it too, but as we had a visitor at this stage, my wife had got Phoebe up and my uselessness was discovered.
Then down to another park (and even flags were looking at me like I was flagging) and more chasing after my brave child who seems to recognise no limit to her capabilities, at least until she’s stuck on an impossible to cross rope bridge or halfway up a tower. She had a couple more quite spectacular falls from a weird little roundabout that I had encouraged her to go on. But she didn’t even cry this time, just delighted in spinning another kid who was better at holding on (and by the way future Phoebe, you weren’t actually doing any of the spinning, that was all me). The only way to stop the mayhem of movement and danger was to offer her an ice cream and we had some brief respite as she sat and devoured it and I told her not to tell her mum (and she didn’t - she later told her mum she’d had a banana, but alas the chocolate still around her mouth gave her up in her lie).
Rain was coming and I tried to rush my daughter home, but she wanted to stop and put tiny twigs in her Easter egg handbag and then climb stairs. We did manage to get home just before the deluge came, but even she was tired now. She fell over a few times as we made the long walk home. Her knees were as bruised as her hands. Her twigs spilled and it was that that made her cry. Even though I told her we could just pick them up again. Man, she loves those twigs. I hope she grows out of this, cos people are going to think she’s weird if she’s 28 and still doing this.
She seemed impressed that I had predicted rain though. I didn’t predict the hail. I did fetch her a piece of it though.
I am amazed I can remember any of this, but we pushed onwards, playing with some play dough that was now too brown and dry to be played with properly. And then I got her in the bath and nearly into bed. but finally her need for her mummy over rode all my hard work and Catie had to do the last bit of the child care.
I was good for nothing after all of this. And we didn’t stay up too long. To calm myself down I ate three bananas. That’s right. Not two beers and a gin and tonic. Three bananas.
