You may have picked up from previous Posts that I like to share some of the more challenging aspects of fatherhood, cold hearted readers amongst you might even call it whinging, but I will persevere with sharing. Blogging is just another avenue for whinging, I mean sharing.
I spend a large proportion of my leisure time trying to get sympathy/gratitude/approval/money from Anna for the challenging nature of my work, it is work isn’t it? In a worrying development I have even started referring to myself in the first person as “poor old daddy”. For example, “poor old daddy had to spend all morning in a cafe with his adorable son” or “poor old daddy is sick of all the parks he has to visit”.
But do I actually have anything to whinge about? Should I dismount the high horse I am perched upon? Is it time to shimmy on down the pedestal? Have my dad sized boots got a bit too big? Should I stop asking these inane questions and get to the point? Okay, this might be a bit tenuous but bear with me.
Take Emperor Penguins (don’t literally take them, their wild animals and can’t be domesticated), the expectant father stands for two months shivering his feathery arse off with an egg on his not so happy feet as he is battered and bruised by the Antarctic winter. During this time no food passes his beak and he doesn’t get a wink of penguin sleep. Mum on the other hand sneaks off to have a grand old time with the girls, getting fat on fish. She waddles back into town when she can’t physically eat another shrimp and finds dad who is showing signs of Rigamortis and generally looking a bit hacked off. Without so much as a sicked up fish supper by way of thanks, Mum instigates a clumsy eggschange (sorry) and inevitably the egg ends up scrambled on the ice. Rather than hold up an apologetic flipper, Mum shoots Dad a withering look as if to say “look what you did, that was your fault you bastard”. I sometimes wonder if Anna was an Emperor Penguin in a former life, she’s got that look down.
I tried putting Max on my feet earlier today, just to see if it was something I would be able accomplish myself. I only lasted a couple of minutes before I got hungry and had an acute case of pins and needles causing me to abort mission and retire to the comfort of an armchair for a cheese sandwich and a foot rub.
So to conclude this most incoherent of Posts, I am no Emperor Penguin, just in case anyone was wondering.