Quite honestly I’m terrified – part three

Day two…oh Lordy day two..

Where to begin?  Where indeed. After such an auspicious day one…(ahem)

(If you haven’t already, read part one and  part two first,  to truly understand my pain)

How do I adequately depict a day that started with a surprise alarm at 6 O’clock in the morning?

(In truth, the alarm was solely mine as a segment of Hot Wheels track was thwacked unannounced on my foolishly exposed forehead. In addition, the noise that sprang forth and was initially assumed to have come from a small four year old girl, can now it would seem be attributed to me.  Furthermore, my wife is still experiencing mild hysterics about this fact and is still, and I quote ‘genuinely shocked that a man can make such a high pitched noise’. Cow).

The afore mentioned humiliation aside….How do I explain with mere words a day of NON-STOP rain,   a day spent ENTIRELY (nearly) inside, and a day with two children who insist on teething IN TANDEM. All without the watchful eye of the Lady of the House.  The Boss. The Omnipotent One.

It’s tricky…….perhaps just  snippets….expressed as percentages….and questions?

75% of the day was spent using every trick in the book,  EVERY trick in the book – good cop, bad cop, pleading cop, clown cop, sell all your toys on E-bay if you don’t stop cop, to get the children to:

a) eat
b) sleep


Is there anything more demoralising than playing your ace card, only to have it trumped by a toddler who plays the ‘I’m-a-toddler-so-lack-the-capacity-to-fully-understand-your-threats-so-will-continue-to-piss-around-regardless’ card?

10% of the day was spent dashing to the park to do some ‘scooting’, after the summer monsoon had ceased in a bid to placate the boy and get some much needed air.   A further 10% of the day was spent dashing back home with a  screaming boy after we realised that Daddy had forgotten to bring the **** scooter.


Is there anything more embarrassing than wheeling an hysterical child, brandishing an over-sized-scooter-helmet through town while he is screaming repeatedly ‘SCOOTER, SCOOTER, SCOO-OOO-OO-TER-ER-ER-ER?!’

5% of the day was spent trying to explain, after a frantic dash across the road, that in fact the Green Man was on holiday and that’s why we didn’t wait….


Is there anything more embarrassing than wheeling an hysterical child, brandishing an over-sized-scooter-helmet, through town while he is screaming repeatedly ‘GREEN MAN, DADDY WAIT FOR GREEN MA-A-A-A-AN!’

I realise that I am now flat out of percentages, but I should like to request a lapse in the necessity for mathematical accuracy for just a moment dear reader, so that I may conclude with the final 143% that was spent carrying a baby who would screamed blue murder if she was put down, but constantly wriggled to be put down, but would scream blue murder if she was put down, but constantly wriggled to be….etc…etc… infinitum, whilst trying to entertain (with zero free hands) a manic toddler hell bent on testing my steely resolve and my staunch anti-corporal punishment stance.

Percentages and questions.  I can do no more. I fear I can not do the day justice dear reader. I fear I can not find any more words to express how equal parts terrifying and infuriating it was.  There are not enough synonyms for incompetent, mishandled, PUT YOUR SISTER DOWN and pillock of a parent to do it justice.

So I shall pose one more question and then put your mind at ease….


What is the eloquent written equivalent of purchasing ALL of the parenting books in ALL of the World, but rather than reading them, ripping out all of the pages and stuffing them down your trousers while singing a slightly hysterical version of ‘My Way’ over and over again, slightly out of key and to the tune of the 1812 overture?

Ladies and Gentleman, rest assured, order is restored.  Her indoors is back indoors and I…..I will be in the shed if you need me.

And it was all going so well (ahem, ahem)

Daddy over and out.


  1. I can't do the moment justice Nicky. The moment of pure terror when I realised (after pushing the kids in the pushchair and talking ALL THE WAY THERE about how we were going to scoot really fast) that I hadn't stuffed the scooter in the bag store bit of the buggy. He went mental!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *