They all preferred their Dad; part one

Having three children under 4 hadn’t been part of the orignal plan. Well, to be honest there wasn’t exactly a plan but that’s a story for another day.

When the children were small I stayed at home and started doing occassional freelancing. But still from home. Whilst they slept. Then we got a childminder one day a week, but basically I was the ever present presence in their wee lives. And we would all look forward to Dad coming home –  sometimes we would drive to meet him from the tube to speed him back to us more quickly, and also as a distraction for half an hour  when things were starting to go pear shaped because it was the end of the day and someone would be getting fractious and grizzly. Usually me.

And so it was that he routinely bathed them and religiously read them stories every night when he was home in time. Which was most nights in those days.  And the children adored him reading to them. When I did it, it was one short book each and absolute refusal to read Rupert the Bear or Thomas the Tank as they were so tedious. Dad on the other hand would regale them with as many stories as they wanted.

And the one they liked best was a Sainsbury’s own picture book called Harry goes to Hospital. Harry was a hippo who worked on a building site and had to go to hospital. Dad made up his own version to tell the story depicted in the pictures and the children just loved it. The hilarity when Harry swallowed a brick! The screams as the nurse told him his feet smelled. It was a joy to hear from downstairs in the kitchen where I would be clearing up the children’s tea or somesuch simple stress-free task.

Eventually it would go quiet and I’d wait for him to come downstairs so we could eat, but sometimes I’d have to go up and find out what was happening only to discover Dad fast asleep sitting on the floor, leaning against one of the beds and all three bubs completely crashed out. Bliss.