March 3, 2014 by Dadinator
To The Lad and Lass (hereafter known as the Noticees).
The noticees are henceforward required to cease and desist from growing and all growing related activity by order of the Supreme Parental Court. Any further growing will leave them liable to court action and other repercussions that may or may not be limited to: having to attend educational institutions, doing work around the house and garden, getting jobs, falling in love and all that follows.
This notice cannot be appealed, altered, withdrawn or rescinded. Ever.
By the authority of:
I wish it was that simple.
My daughter is nearly crawling. All I can think is “Noooooooo not yet!”.
Teeth. Teeth are coming. I can feel it in my waters….
My son was in his bedroom with me yesterday. I was on the bed while he was running around and not sleeping. He uses a step to climb onto his bed at night. I saw his head popping up over the bedside and thought he must have been misstepped on his step, he was halfway up but not quite there.
I poked my head over the side and saw the truth. It was horrifying. I gasped (on the inside) and shed a silent tear. My boy wasn’t on the step at all, he had gotten taller. Today we were at the basin. He used to struggle to reach the tap, stretching his hands forward. Today he reached it easily.
It is too much. We talk nostalgically about a two-year old, missing the days when he was little. I’ve found myself doing the same thing about The Lass. She’s 5, months old. What have our children done to us? How can we feel nostalgic for a time when they were more helpless, more dependent and harder to communicate with? How can we be anything but amazed with the wonderful creatures they have become by growing and wish them to revert to blobs? It defies sense.
I think we have something hardwired into us to keep the babies coming and propagate the species, but is it that simple? You see, if they have grown to this point, logically they will keep growing. And growing. And fighting with us. And getting bigger than us. And leaving us old and alone…….. Sniff.
Once upon a time a dad had little to do with a baby. Well, in this part of the world anyway. The Mamanator’s grandfather has four daughters. He used to bathe them, change them, sing to them and rock them. He was also a welder. When he mentioned parental activities to his workmates he got looks. People regarded him as weird, even a little bit “funny” for being so close to his daughters. I don’t think he cared, and good on him.
Maybe it was easier then. Those men who raised their eyebrows at the thought of spending time with a baby probably never mused over what they miss after two short years. Maybe they honestly thought kids were not worth talking to till they can talk themselves. Maybe they were scared.
I’ll never know. I’m glad of that.
My own mother told me that when she came to visit us in the hospital after The Lad was born she took note of something; I changed my son’s nappy. Dad never changed mine. Poor dad. Poor dads. What they missed.
Still. Its 12:30 in the morning. The Lad is due to wake up for some unknown reason in an hour….. (Sleep post coming soon). So I should probably just go to sleep.
Part of me doesn’t want to sleep… that’s when the kids do their growing…