Their lack of understanding became plainly evident when Pa’s face finally graced us with it’s digital presence and in the briefest of moments, Pa managed to do, with a cheery ‘Hello’ from over 80 miles away, what Wifey and I have failed to do for over two and a half years. He completely silenced the room. He rendered the children dumbstruck. (Yahoo) That is until he spoke again and my son started to whimper. Whimper and kick. And struggle. Desperate to escape. Desperate to flee the scene. We held him back and pinned him down, continuing our conversation with Pa, until the ‘special moment’ began to more resemble child cruelty, and then we released him. And with that he fled into the garden to terrorise the cat. Twitching and looking over his shoulder.
During this ‘special moment’, we were so wrapped up with foiling the boy’s escape attempts, we failed to notice that our daughter had acquired a ‘look’. A look I have never seen before. A look of befuddlement and discombobulation. Imagine if you can the face of a person who simultaneously hears the voice of God and has an iced-finger stuck up their bottom. Imagine it, and you will be imagining the look on my nine month old daughter’s face when her Grandfather’s head came beaming into our lounge in glorious HD
(I recognise the term ‘iced-finger’ has many applications – choose your poison).
Worryingly, baby girl still has the ‘look’. We are hoping that sleep, or Calpol, or a change in the wind, will set it back the way it was. Otherwise she’ll need a paper bag.
So we are going old-school. Face-to-face contact from now on for us. Back to the days of seeing is believing. Anything to avoid this……..
If you look closely – you can actually see my wife holding my son’s arm tightly as he tries to exit stage right, and my daughter’s brain about to exit through her nappy. My wife did a sterling job holding everything together while I supportively took this photograph and laughed my ass off.
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