The price of youth

I am going to be forty next year and I’m looking forward to it. For me every decade brings a greater sense of self and direction. I relax a little bit more into my skin. I become more confident in my lack of confidence and more willing to listen. Ageing is suiting me down to the ground and as far as I am concerned is a positive process which I welcome. I do not however look  nearly forty, so I guess that helps. If I had to guess my age I’d say…… early thirties. Or maybe on a very good day I’d say very late twenties. My wife will guffaw when she reads this, but that is because we are the same age, give or take a couple of months and I look younger than her. Jealous.

I have good genes what can I say? My Mother who is now in her 70’s looks amazing, but still I do my bit to help things along. I eat well, I exercise, I sleep as much as I can and importantly, I moisturise.

My kids also moisturise, not to keep their skin looking young you understand, they are both under three and still look good for their age. They suffer from occasional childhood eczema and as result the house is full of their potions and lotions for me to sample. One particular ointment is deposited in the bath and leaves a sparkly film on the water. The existence of this lotion is the cause of my most recent shame.

Recently I have noticed the sparkly residue in the bottom of the tub, from Bath Time the night before and have grabbed the opportunity when passing to dabble my fingers in and wipe it all over my face.  This has not replaced my usual moisturising routine, but has become a secondary event. One does all one can to assist nature in keeping oneself elfin-like. I have noticed a strange aroma, a faint smell as I carefully applied, but no pain no gain huh?  If it’s designed for babies it’s not going to do my face any harm is it?

I wish this was where this particular post ended, but it is not.

Yesterday as I was shaving my son came into the bathroom needing a wee. Unassisted he pulled the potty from the back of the toilet, pulled down his pants and got on with it. My heart was full of admiration as he stood up, announced ‘Look Daddy I’ve done a big wee’ and pulled his trousers back up. Such an independent boy.

Then he did something that stopped me in my tracks. Not immediately, it took a while for the significance to fully sink in.  He picked up the potty and poured the contents into the bath. Initially I smiled to myself ‘cheeky monkey’ I thought. I watched as he aimed for the plug hole but due to limited gross motor skills deposited much of his pee-pee in the bottom of the bath. And then it hit me.

My mind racing I desperately called out to my wife asking if she was aware of this ever happening before? I was hoping beyond all hope that this was the first recorded instance and that I had not been doing for the past couple of weeks what I thought I had been doing…..

Her: “Yeah he’s been doing it for a couple of weeks now, It’s fine”

Me: “IT IS NOT ******* FINE!”
Her: I’ll rinse it at bath time, chill.


I could escape reality no longer. I took a deep breathe and looked myself square in the mirror. I shook my head and gave myself the kind of look one gives a person who realises, in a crushing moment of humiliation, that they have been willingly rubbing another person’s tinkle into their face. And felt all pleased with themselves as they did so.

How my son has got into this habit I do not know, when the toilet is next to the bloody bath?! Why my wife is so non-plus about the whole affair and what happens when I am at work, I do not know? I assumed this type of social malfunction got ironed out during the day? Apparently not. Apparently being at home is some sort of bohemian existence where the freedom exists to deposit whatever, wherever.  Today it’s piddle in the bath, remote controls posted through the cat flap and half eaten biscuits in my shoes.  What’s tomorrow, a dump in the kettle?  Wifey may as well go back to work and we’ll let wolves raise our children for heavens sake. Yesterday I came home and found my 11-month old daughter sitting eating my trainers and my semi-naked son on all fours displaying his pencil sharpener, telling me he’d ‘finished‘. I’d just walked through the door for pity’s sake, couldn’t I please just have a moment to catch my breath before I have to be confronted by used bottom holes requiring my attention? My house is descending into chaos and to top it all off I smell of wee!

So dear reader do not covet or attempt to retain youth. Grow old with grace and happiness. Let me be your warning. If however you choose not to heed my warning then please be aware of the following fact:  Balneum Soya Oil, when mixed with urine, glistens and sparkles and promises so, so much.  But stay away. Stay well away. Or, if not, buy very strong deodorant. In addition, take the opportunity to road test your children in the basics before letting them out in public.


  1. That's too too funny!

    When I read back my twitter timeline there's a pattern of shame and embarrassment due to poo, wee, tears, and tantrums… and that's before I even mention the kids? Did I say timeline, I meant my life!

    Thanks for letting me laugh at someone else's parenting, it's reassuring to know I'm not alone!

  2. Anonymous

    Sam, I have just actually GUFFAWED at this. Oh my word, you would never hear the end of this if I were still your TA. (And I find the wee business quite funny too.)

    Late 20s, oh my days… ;-)

    Hahahahahahaha xx

Leave a Reply

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