Being Dad

Being a father is fraught with danger…

Movie Madness April 15, 2013

What is it that I watch more of, than practically anything else?

Would it be sport? I love to watch rugby and cricket.

Might it be action movies? I do love a good war flick.

Maybe it’s documentaries? Give me a doco on Africa or sharks, and I will sit there for hours.

Sadly, it’s none of these. What I watch most of, are children’s shows. Well, specifically one in particular.

You see, children have this uncanny knack of being able to watch the same show – over, and over, and over again. Back-to-back is no problem either.

Missy doesn’t watch a large amount of TV, but when she does, it is invariably the same movie.

Peter Pan.

She adores it. She even wakes up in the morning some days, a little teary.

“What’s up, Pumpkin?”

“Peter Pan didn’t come to visit last night”

She is besotted by the story. This presents a problem for me.

1)    I have now seen it 50 times. I am sick to death of it

2)    She watches it in French, so not only am I sick of it, but also, I don’t even understand it.

But that doesn’t dissuade her. With uncanny certainty after a day out, we will get home:

“Do you want to watch a movie my little peanut?”

“Yes Daddy!”

“ ‘Something with Bruce Willis, perhaps?

(Arms crossed, pouting) “No! Peter Pan!!”

It should come as no surprise, I suppose. When my niece was a little girl, I lived in Africa. Whenever I would come home to Sydney for a visit, I would stay with her and my sister. At the time, my niece’s favourite movie was Oliver Twist. Not being a parent in those days, I made a rookie error. I expressed a keen desire to watch it with her.

What a good Uncle I was.

From then on, for several years at least, my visits were a signal to break out Oliver Twist, and watch it a minimum of twice a day.

What a nightmare I created.

I have thought about accidentally losing the Peter Pan DVD, but that would be bad, Daddy. My only hope is Missy moves onto something else. I have recently introduced her to Wallace and Gromit – now she wants a dog that can make breakfast and build a robot.  I can’t win.


Don’t Toy With Toys April 8, 2013

Filed under: Dad Blog,Parenting — Tim @ 10:54 am
Tags: ,

A child’s toy – specifically their favourite cuddly ones – must be treated with both care and respect.

On many occasions, I have received a stern warning for mistreatment of little, but inanimate, friends. Apparently, when dolly needs to be put away, it is unacceptable to go for the long shot, pro-basketball style, and hurl dolly the length of the room. I also note there is no kudos given for making the shot and slotting Missy’s floppy friend, bang into the toy box.

“Three points!”

“Bad Daddy!”

Children, well Missy at least, can get particularly attached to a toy. It becomes their friend, and they can get quite irate or even mournful if it isn’t in sight at all times.

That in itself creates issues.  Missy has a bunny, “Monsieur Lapin”.  Mr. Bunny is by far her favourite thing in the world. Sure, she had the standard dozen fluffy toys that get rotated in and out of her bed on some secret schedule only she understands, but Mr. Bunny is always there. He goes to School with her, he comes on picnics, he has meals with us, and he travels in the car. Mr. Bunny must also be the most well journeyed rabbit on the planet; I should get him a frequent flyer card.

But all this travelling and playing makes Mr. Bunny quite dirty. So here it is. Missy barely lets him out of her sight, and villainously flinging him in into the washing machine would cause a riot at our house.

Of course, Mum had the answer and came swiftly to the rescue. Mr. Bunny is a popular make of toy, and so with a simple visit to the shops, Mr Bunny had a stunt double. When washing was needed, in an operation so swift and decisive you would need a super slow motion camera to properly see it, Mr. Rabbit was replaced by…Mr. Rabbit.

Well, it did work like that for quite a while until an unforeseen event occurred: ie I got involved. Missy was unexpectedly and scandalously exposed to both Monsieur Lapin and his stunt double, at the same time. Stunt double is now known as Madame Lapine.

I must say, it was quite the shock for her at first, but she soon coped with the discovery Mr. Bunny was secretly married quite well. The funny thing is she can tell these fluffy toys apart, despite the fact they are mass-produced. I was putting her to bed one night, when she announced that Madame Lapine was in attendance, when she wanted Monsieur Lapin. I, of course, tried to convince her that it was Mr Bunny, and no way was it Mrs. Bunny.

”No, silly Daddy, Mr. Bunny has a mark in his head.”

I found the other bunny, thankfully washed and dried, and on close inspection, there it was. There was a slight, almost imperceptible, stitching anomaly on the head.

She can tell them apart – oh dear.


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