Sunday 20 June 2010

It's all down to Daddy...

In retrospect, its easy to imagine how it happened. I'll never know for certain, but I suspect it occurred a few days ago, and went something like this:
Eldest is sitting at the dining table, swinging her legs and frowning. In front of her is a folded sheet of card, onto which she has drawn a picture of me (looking both younger and slimmer than I actually am - though in real life I have a full compliment of fingers and both my arms are the same length). She has drawn me wearing an England football top, and then drawn herself alongside me with her hands held aloft, a speech bubble spilling from her mouth that reads "Goal".
Clearly not a work of realism then, as nobody in an England shirt seems to be in danger of scoring at the moment - though perhaps it's not that farfetched in other respects, as I do feel that on England's current form that even I have a chance of qualifying for the squad (though that is not saying much, because on this weeks evidence I also think that Eldest plays well enough to have easily earned a place - and she is six, and prone to sitting down on the ball itself for a breather if she gets a bit tired).
Within the card, she has written "Dear Daddy, Happy Fathers Day". This has not taken up much space, so she calls out for her mother, who is doubtless pottering about in the kitchen making yet another cake.
"I have too much space left in my card," she shouts. "What else can I write?"
"Write something nice about Daddy..." calls her Mother.
I imagine, at this point, that there is lengthy pause while Eldest gazes out of the window with furrowed brow.
"Like what?" she asks finally, clearly out of ideas.
Again, I imagine at this point there is another, lengthy pause, while her Mother suddenly halts with an icing bag in her fingers and also realises the impossibility of the task.
"Tell Daddy how grateful you are to have him," calls her Mother in the end. "Write about some of the nice things he does for you..."
"I don't know what you mean?"
"Tell Daddy what he means to you. Just write a thank you to Daddy for all he does for you..."
There is another pause. Then Eldest shrugs, and sets to work with her felt tip.

Which is why today, on Father's day, I open a card that reads as follows:

" Dear Daddy. 
Happy Fathers Day.
Thank you for earning all the money that buys me things"


Deborah Carr (Debs) said...

So sweet and funny. I love the things children come out with.

Carol said...

LOL!! That is utterly brilliant...I think eldest is just fab!!


Pat said...

Well it's nice to know your place.

Now, get back to work.

Traceyr said...

Classic but true and she will be saying that for the rest of your life! hahaha


Gerry Snape said...

Obviously got her head screwed on just right that child.

Maher Family said...

This a a great post.

Nicole. said...

Hey Paul,

Was reading an article you wrote for the NCT about your trip to legoland(I'm an editor) and just thought I would cheer you up with a line that someone in my office was singing.....'When smoke gets in, I hear fire en-giiiins' At least you didn't hit that low. Ciao, Nicole.

Dan Bruna said...

Good to know our place in the family chain!
Great Blog.