So I’m here typing away with my sausage fingers and down comes Wonderwoman from upstairs, where a tired and flagging Jenny is trying to get her and Batman into bed. You might as well try cutting water with cutlery sometimes, it would be easier.
It turns out that, while I have forgotten the password I set up not 3 minutes ago for my G Suite email, Wonderwoman has a painful mouth ulcer. Patience time. I took her hand and we went upstairs whilst I gave her explicit instructions on how to sloosh out her mouth and not to drink the Corsodyl. She wanted a drink of water first from the tap, of which 90% went down her pyjama top. Then Batman arrived to see what was going on.
She slooshed and they wanted to be carried downstairs. Now they are 5 but they have taken after me height wise (I’m 193cm or 6’4″ in old money) and it’s getting harder to hold both of them at the same time. But I managed to totter downstairs like a pissed girl on stillettos and put them to bed. Whereupon Batman wanted me to sing ‘Long Black Train’ by Richard Hawley to him before he slept.
I was desperately trying to remember about DNS settings and long strings of passwords – and the happy helper was waiting for me on the other end of the chat. But I sung.
Because one day, all I will get at night, or in the morning for that matter, will be sullen silence, or if I’m lucky ‘Oh God Dad, you’re sooo embarrassing’.
And it felt like magic, and I felt like a King.
Mod Dad 