Well, that moment is ruined.

It’d been a good day.

He’s going to school in September so I’m determined to get him dry by then. Baring a few accidents, he’s actually been quite good.

In big boy pants all day, with a day in the garden and a trip to the park, I began to wonder.

Come bathtime, I was so pleased to see him using the toilet before getting into the shower. I gave praise where it was due.

Well done! You’ve gone the whole day without an accident! I’m so proud of you.

Naked, he leans forwards and grabs his ankles.

“Dad, can you see up my bum?”

Christ.

BSD

Down day

I think I’m exhausted, or pretty close to it.

We’re nearly halfway through the year and it has been a busy one. My writing has suffered.

It doesn’t help that I’m cramming a lot in, including learning two new skills. It means that for the most of the time, I have my head deeply buried in one type of reference medium or another. Luckily I enjoy doing that.

The cubs are on form although he’s a little under the weather. What that does do, is give the three of us the opportunity to cuddle up on the sofa and watch movies.

Never, ever underestimate the power of a down day and a cuddle. It’s almost as if I can feel my batteries recharging.

I’ve even ordered a pizza, rather than cook.

Tommorow, normal service will be resumed. I’ve discovered a new green space near us that we’re going to explore, waterproofs and picnics will be packed.

Adventure calls.

BSD

Independents day

Ok I’m back and hopefully so is my writing bug. Let’s see how this goes.

I like to teach the cubs life skills whenever I can and today was a big one; cooking breakfast.

She’s 8 next month and has shown the maturity to use kitchen knives responsibly in the past. It’s time to use the hob to make porridge.

Safety first

Sharps are one thing; flame another. She gets a thorough briefing.

  1. No loose clothing. We go into the reasons why, without unduly scaring her. It’s also an occasion to deliver a lesson on ‘stop: drop and roll’
  2. Rear rings only. I rarely use the front ones when they’re here for safety reasons. I tell her that this stops her clothing getting too close. She double checks her clothing.
  3. No flame until it’s needed. Just before the pot goes on.
  4. Long spoon. An absolute must. A belt and braces way of keeping away from the flame.

Pride

She hits the ignition; her life changes for ever.

She turns to talk to me and reach for a bowl. I stop her; keeping her attention on the job. One thing at a time.

She counts aloud as the porridge thickens. Perfection; hob off.

I help with dishing out, as the pot is heavy. (Does the coagulation of a thixotropic material proportionately increase its mass? I’ll save that one for her graduation)

Finishing touches

She added the finishing touches to my bowl; honey, nuts, banana, blueberries, cinnamon, turmeric and ginger. Her bowl was less extravagant but she nailed it (apart from the turmeric but hey; curried porridge can be a thing…)

The look of satisfaction and pride on her face is immeasurable.

‘Best porridge ever daddy?’

Absolutely.

BSD

Going dry

Not about me not drinking alcohol, although I’m still not, mostly.

I’m talking potty training.

I don’t remember it being this challenging nor do I remember feeling these levels of frustrations. I guess it’s easier when there’s two of you.

Youngest cub is making the transition from pull-ups to big boy pants. It’s quite the journey.

Later this year and all too young, he’s going to school and the last thing I want is for him not to be dry when he gets there.

Expert opinion states that you shouldn’t force a child into being dry, but rather you should look for signs that they are ready to start using the potty or the toilet.

For about the last year he has been asking questions about the toilet or opening the door at inopportune moments to stare at me. I took it as a sign.

Nursery staff commented a while back that he had spent most of the day dry so we all agreed to progress things.

On the last Nursery day of the week, when I collected him I also collected a selection of bagged up pants and trousers.

Rome wasn’t built in a day.

This week’s grocery shop included 10 pairs of big boy pants; I intend to crack this over the Easter holidays.


Before breakfast, I change him from a nighttime nappy into normal pants. Over the past couple of weeks he’s become quite good at taking himself to the loo. His step and seat adapter are all where he can reach them.

Sans porridge, he starts wriggling and squatting. He says he needs a wee. I tell him to go. He asks me to come, as he doesn’t want to go upstairs alone. Ok.

As we stand in front of the bowl, getting the step and seat in place he stands awkwardly and a growing puddle appears around his feet. He’s a bit upset.

I reassure him that accidents happen and that maybe he should get there a little earlier next time to avoid the agony of ‘almost’.

I clean him up, put on fresh pants and trousers before we return to our favourite breakfast distraction, learning French on he kindle.


The demand for ghost stories have gone up recently. She’s not convinced but he loves them.

I have a great story book that’s almost suitable for them. I read one yesterday and they seemed to like it, so much so they’ve asked for another story this morning.

I head for the lounge with the book and settle in the sofa. I tell them both to come in close so they can see the illustrations.

She’s in; he’s out, preferring to stand by the arm of the chair. I’m suspicious.

Do you need a poo?

“No” he says, before making a straining noise.

A quick check confirms that we need to scoot. Too late.

I’m frustrated and do my best not to get angry; I sort my emotions before I speak. He seems to comprehend that the wee urge needs to be addressed but still seems to poo on demand.

The psychologist in me understands that I can do damage here if I handle this incorrectly. Nobody cracks any new skill straight away.

I think that what got to me is that I asked him if he needed a poo and he’s said no. That’s a cycle I do need to break.

Time for some classical conditioning and a great deal of patience.

And disinfectant.

Pirates, and a case of the coughs.

I’m back.

I’ve had a bit of a break because, well, I was tired. I’ve been doing a lot of self improvement lately and that takes its toll. I’ll probably write about it shortly.

Not today though; today, is all about my budding thespian.

School play

My eldest cub has been bouncing off the walls for a month. She had been cast as a major part in the school play, ‘Pirates of the Curry-Bean’.

Curry-Bean……

Caribbean……get it?

I probably didn’t have to spell that out but it fills the page.

She was RedBeard; a major speaking part. For the last few weeks she’s pushed her learning of her lines. She’s practiced so, so hard to the point that her 3 year old brother was fluent in all the songs.

I gave her the nuggets of my experience, having played one of the Three Wise Men in numerous nativities and Joseph in one. This makes me a pro.

Tips

Proper practice prevents poor performance. She learnt this first. It was our mantra for karate and my mantra for everything.

She sang in the bath; she sang in her room. She sang at bedtime, accompanied by him; she sang in the car. I loved it.

The big day

Actually the night before.

They’ve been at their mum’s this week so technically the next time I’d see her would be when she entered stage right.

I wasn’t having that.

Thank you technology; FaceTime engaged.

We chat, I wish her luck before assuring her that I would be at both the lunchtime and the evening performances.

She responds by informing me that her brother, well on the way to being toilet trained, is having a wee in the bath.

Ok.

Maybe he’s more nervous than she is.

The big day (for real)

And I wake up with a hacking cough.

Where in hell had this come from?? Disaster!

Understand this; I’m a big fella; when I cough it sounds like a nuclear detonation giving birth to an adult volcanic eruption. It’s pretty loud.

Water. As much of it as I could drink without killing myself.

Drugs. Cold and flu remedies to be precise.

Cough sweets. Not good enough. Give me the industrial stuff – weapons grade if you’ve got it.

Timing. Tablets taken too early would lose their effect at a critical time; probably during a soliloquy. Time to work the clock backwards.

Tablets take 30 minutes to work but then last for 4 hours; taken too early I’d be protection-less at the commencement of the performance, ruining the show and scaring smaller children; too late and it wouldn’t kick in until the epilogue.

Take one in 10 minutes then another in a subsequent 5, thus staggering the impact whilst allowing for any delays in curtain up.

I may have overthought it.

The (revised) plan

Arrive 45 mins early; eat lunch. Take tablet(s); drink drink. Have wee. Take cough sweet (industrial). Drink. Nice.

Seat at the front, with other cub and mum; relax.

Curtain up

Apart from Captain RedBeard taking time out to wave periodically to loved ones during an orchestrated battle, it was amazing.

Proud daddy had the loudest clapping (thankfully not coughing) in the audience.

BSD

Hark the Herald

Last week, the mother of my cubs demanded to see them on my weekend, whilst accusing me ‘preparing nothing’ for Mother’s Day.

Once I pointed out that it wasn’t Mother’s Day, she backed down.

Today, at 04:35, I’m wrapping her presents so they can be presented first thing.

It’s so hard to wrap when you’re being blinded by your halo.

I’m up because of work btw; not because I’m unprepared.

BSD