1.  Happy Father’s Day

2.  A Family Day Out

3.  The Servant

Man I was wiped out after yesterday, celebrating Nanna’s Grand Old Age from 0830 till gone 11pm. I forgot to say, she loved the cartoon fireman mushroom Son 1 aged 4y 8m chose for her. Kitch. A language shared by the elderly and under-fives.  We really thought we were in for a lie-in, but Son 2 aged 21 m was up and roaring at 6am.  The Man went.  At 0730, when I went down to see them, sitting together on the big chair watching The Wiggles, I said “Happy Father’s Day.”  He’d forgotten. “I’d have made you get up if I’d realised.”  A silent and invisible licked finger wrote a “1″ in the air. 

The Office was at a huge environmental event. Cycle trails, hearty walking,  pond-dipping, willow-weaving, that sort of thing.  I’d said I’d go, and The Man said it was the sort of Family Thing he didn’t mind doing for Father’s Day.  Son 1 packed his golf kit, and wee headed on out. Son 2 fell asleep straightaway, Son 1 hung on until a few minutes before we arrived. We chatted to my colleagues, and went to look around. We got as far as Face Painting And Smoothie Making.  Son 1 was a pirate,. The moustache, caterpillar eyebrow and eyepatch we have seen many times before. But the fake cheek slash was a new touch. Wax-based, red blood running from it, like something off the Casualty set.   We set off round the trail and the boys were murderous.  We split into teams and played “Spot the butterflies.” They came alive. The behaviour switched, instantly. The Man and Son 1 beat me and Son 2 10 - 4.  Ah. Not hungry, tired, or hot, then. Just bored.

There were bees as well as butterflies, and dragonflies, and crickets. Foxgloves, cowslips, a lily pond. All in a scorching day, the sun baking down on the trail.  We took an hour to get to the first mile marker, and an hour back again.  Son 1 spent well over an hour in the Wildlife People’s tent, making a Father’s Day card with a butterfly on it and colouring face marks with felt tip. Son 2 tipped up all the sticker shapes, and I took him away. He had an owl mask. “Owl. Owl.”  Which meant: ” I would like to stand back on that chair and colour my owl like Son 1.”  Eventually I tempted him away with “Would you like some cake?” and we went for ice cream. The Man and Son 1 were a full half hour behind us, because the face mask had to be coloured perfectly. “Didn’t you try to get him away?” “About a thousand times.”  They played golf, and Son 1 had a quick game of pirates with a big boy in the playground.   As we left, Son 1 said “Can I have a servant?” “You’ve got a servant,” I said. “Daddy is your servant, he’s just not very good at it and I keep having to do it instead.”  “No,” insisted Son 1. “A servant. Something we buy. From the shop.”  “You mean a souvenir?”  “Yes.”  “No you can’t. You had too much yesterday.” = 2 Wiggles Activity packs, and a Disney Golf set. Back home I googled the Wiggles.  Bad News.  Liking Anthony is not original.  Good News. I do not need to be concerned about the “Spending Some Quiet Time With Dorothy,” Do-Not-Disturb signs left on the back of the theatre seats.

1.  A Big Day

2.  A Day Off

3.  A Long Day

Nanna’s Birthday.  She is A Grand Old Age.  Son 1 aged 4y 8m, Son 2 aged 21m and I picked her up and drove over to The City to watch the Wiggles.   We arrived at the same time as hoards of other under-fives. ”Food!” said Son 2, trying to rip his way into the tuck bag as soon as we got through the sliding doors. “Food! Food! Food!”  I tried to give him a sandwich. “Cips!”  “Cips!”   I wasn’t sure about the Wiggles.  A Mumsnet talkboard raved about them, they were on Nanna’s Big Day, and we needed an outing.  But I am now enslaved.   Just go. You deserve it. Don’t, whatever you do, ruin it by taking children.  Son 1 bellowed out the names as they bounded on, and I was oh-how-sweet, he knows who they are.  Afterwards, Son 1 asked: “Who’s your favourite Wiggle Mummy?” “Anthony,” I said. “Guess why.” “Because he likes to run around and have lots of fun, doesn’t he?” “Yes, yes,” said I.  Mmmm. WLTM. Abs of rock. Does Handstands. Drums. Likes children. Filthy rich.  I can now, for the first time in my life, compose a lonely hearts ad.  

On the way back, Son 1 said: “Where’s Daddy?” “Having a day off,” I said. A Father’s Day present.  I left it a few beats. “Do you think Daddy has too many days off?” I asked.  “Yes.” “Do you think it might be someone else’s turn to have a day off?”  “Yes I do. When we get back, I will say, Daddy, we will have the next day off.  It’s our turn. It’s your turn to do all the tidying.”  Oh lambo.  You are the centre of your universe and you cannot conceive of a world where grown ups long for time without you.   Oh all right, I don’t.  From every quarter I am urged to take time off from them.  But I can’t spend a minute without them when I’m not at work. 

The Man bought balloons and did an al fresco strawberries and cream tea for Nanna. We made the boys have hummous and dips, and then brought out plate upon plate of  scones, strawberries, jam and a victoria sponge.     Nanna’s mother always gave her strawberries on her birthday.  We put candles on the Victoria Sponge, and Son 1 bossily shoved Son 2 out of the way so that he could blow them out. We are out of matches, so I went downstairs to light one from the cooker. I doughtily carried it upstairs and the wind blew it out.  Eventually Son 2 followed me down the kitchen, and I let him blow out candles there. “More. More.”  We took Nanna out for dinner at The Hotel With The River View. She had chicken, I had butternut squash curry, The Man had steak.  After, we sat outside on the terrace enjoying the fine Long Evening Before The Solstice.  Nanna rang Elder Sister to tell her about her day.  “They were fantastic,” she said.  “They were on air for an hour and a half and they never stopped. They did everything, and they were so entertaining.”  Nanna knows her stuff. She has, in her time, seen  people like Judy Garland and Danny Kaye live.