4788/17447
I know everyone thinks their own kids are great and clearly all those people are idiots with ugly babies who can’t do anything, but that you have to pretend to think are gorgeous. But I think my daughter seems to be a genuinely impressive person. I wasn’t expecting that. I am a cowardly idiot and my wife, whilst beautiful and clever has low self-esteem and doesn’t realise how great she is (which I am not complaining about as it allowed me to woo her, without her spotting that she was way too good for me). Anyway I assumed due to the power of genetics that we would have a timid, socially awkward and neurotic child. But Phoebe is surprisingly confident and brave and happy. And I don’t think this is parental bias. Everyone who meets her remarks on her remarkable attitude to life.
This morning we took her for a jab. She’s been pretty good with these so far, but it’s impossible to explain what’s going on to a baby and almost as hard to bear seeing them being hurt for no apparent reason (from their point of view). But Phoebs charmed the medical staff and though she cried for ten seconds once she registered the fact that she’s been stabbed (and she didn’t know that the needle was full of disease) she was soon back to smiles. I was terrible with any form of pain as a kid, so her steadfastness in the face of medical intrusion is remarkable. Even later, when a slight slip by me attempting to stop her hurting herself resulted in her head-butting the coffee table in a way that made me assume her head would split open like a coconut (though she was left unmarked), she had stopped crying thirty seconds later when I’d rushed her upstairs to her mum, whilst I was still shaking and out of breath from the shock. She has already developed skills as a slapstick star, knowing how to make a fall look much more painful than it is. Again, as a kid, I would have milked an incident like that for weeks.
We’re putting her in nursery for an afternoon a week, to give us both a shot at getting some work done, but also so she can socialise with other kids and catch their diseases nice and early. She’e been in three times for short periods to get acclimatised, but I don’t think she needed that decompression chamber. She’s taken to it straight away, leaving her parents much more traumatised by the separation. The minute she gets in there she is playing and laughing and looking like she’s having the time of her life and today she didn’t even look around as we said goodbye. And all the staff keep saying how happy and centred she is. I’d say this wasn’t my child except sometimes I feel like I am looking into a tiny version of own face and seeing my own cheekiness reflected back at me.
I am actually quite offended that she settled into nursery so well. It’s certainly rather insulting.
But we went to a cafe and I wrote a Metro column and thus managed to pay for the childcare (in theory - we actually get these settling in sessions for free), so this might work out. In fact if she loves the nursery so fucking much then why doesn't she go and live there. I hate her.
I am delighted to have a brave, confident and popular child. Except she’s going to disown me pretty quickly when she finds out what a wimpish dweeb I am. Or dominate and bully me. Her hands are already bigger than mine. I move further down the pecking order in my family meaning I am only higher status than one of our two cats. Hell, I wouldn't like to be that idiot Liono. She really is the lowest of the low. Ow, she just bit me. At least I am more dominant than our half-dead Christmas tree.
Yet it’s a relief to know that the pressure is now off me to be a success. I can pile all own expectations, hopes and dreams on to my daughter, who is objectively amazing and clearly much better than me in every way.
