Hole in one
I watch him hit Bukugan balls across the kitchen floor with a plastic light saber with quite an alarming degree of accuracy. “How many balls are there in bill birds?” “I have no idea. Is this one of your new jokes luvvy?” “No. I’m askin. How many balls are there in bi

Proceed with caution
One of my many duties as Head Cook and Chief bottle washer of this joint is to tackle the accumulation of miscellaneous stains that have recently appeared around the premises. Although we are in the midst of a heavily armed, hand-washing campaign, nevertheless I find I have been remiss in my vigilance. Whilst I can think of many other things that I should prefer to do, there comes a time when the graffiti can no longer be ignored. Armed with my trusty scrubber, soap and several gallons of elbow grease, I make a start. The first one is an ominous brown smear but it passes the sniff test, so I know that is benign, Belgium Chocolate pudding I’ll be bound. As I scrub I h

Hands free hair washing
The hygiene of my children is very much a hands on affair. Having overcome the seasonal changes from baths in the winter, to showers in the summer and then back again, I can honestly say that the painful transition period has shortened considerably over the last decade, from months to a mere few weeks, testimonial to the fact that they continue to grow. I’m uncertain if I’m there in the bathroom to prevent escape, provide entertainment or minimize carnage, but in any event I consider that I could probably be using my time in a more constructive manner, elsewhere. That said it comes to my attention late in the day, that the all elusive ‘independence’ factor

Do We not Bleed?
The great thing about growing up is that life becomes so much more calm, relatively speaking. The bad thing about growing up is that the cues become more subtle, or at least they are for complacent, half witted parents, such as myself. Both the boys have gradually acquired a wide variety of coping mechanisms which they’re able to access more frequently these days. Since their outward behaviour is more conformist, I’m apt to forget that it’s still all there, just a scratch beneath the surface. Luckily for me, a little reminder here and there helps keep me grounded. The reminder arrives in the morning, early, never my best time of the day, during the heavily sequenced mor

Blood Hounds
I dry my hands carefully so I can put a fresh plaster on my finger, post washing up and then nip upstairs to bed down the smalls. I whip up the ladder to start with the smallest one on the top bunk. “Night, night luvvy.” “Agh!” “What’s the matter dear?” “Dat is dah worstest.” “What is?” “Dat smell?” “Hmm sorry about that. I was a bit heavy handed with the garlic tonight.” “Not food smell.” “Which smell?” “Yur finger stinks.” “My finger?” “Dah one wiv dah band aid.” “Can’t, I’ve only just washed them. Is it the soap? Doesn’t smell much too me.”