My diary, for friends and myself, if you don't know me -- go
I'm in charge 
| | "I'M IN CHARGE." "No, no, I'm in charge." No, Esme, I'm in charge because I'm the Daddy!" I'm Daddy." Now, your being silly.
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| | Crowd control today, Amanda's out till 6:30 pm tonight.
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| | "Where, we're going tod-day?"
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| | I don't know Esme, where do you want to go today?"
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| | "AcDonalds and big PARK!"
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Painting
| | Bradley's in bed, quiet 90 minutes, painting with Esme. 2:02:53 pm
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| | Now, she's washing her hands in the sink, standing on a chair. This will take some time. 2:17:51 pm
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| | Bath Esme while I dress Bradley, after he's awoken. Then dress Esme, then out the door to the shops, "AckDonalds" and the park. Better be the park first as it'll get dark before I'm there -- you watch, see how the plan falls apart. 2:20:28 pm |
| | Esme can put her own socks on now, took a little time extra 2:56:02 pm |
| | Bradley's dressed, Esme too, just gorra find Bradley's new shoes. |
| | And we're back! 6:53:45 pm
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| | T'was a cold and windy day... Catching up at 10:12:49 pm |
| | We went with the two seater down through the council estate, past the wrecked cars in gardens, the slowly driven cars, at the same pace as some people who were hurrying to get away, down to the old mine workings, now a set of walks. |
| | The two seater is a train, a heavy beast with a slow turning circle. I followed a man who was hurrying much faster, down a shortcut, off the rickety track down a field, bad move, now my white trainers are covered in mud, the push chair is filthy anyway, no washable parts, and a hand-me-down from Amanda's sister. |
| | I love it though. Getting the two of them in there, and whizzing down hills, and through the indoor shopping centre that is Telford. Busy today with Christmas shoppers. |
Bed time games
| | Lately, we've been getting Esme coming in to our bed earlier and earlier in the morning. But the past 4 or 5 days, I've slept down on the settee -- been working till 3 in the morning, don't want to disturb them then, so I let Esme sleep with her mum.
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| | But last night, I was earlier, but tried to sleep with Esme still in the bed between us, but couldn't, she kept kicking or prodding me, so I went into her bed, and tried to sleep with Bradley...
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| | He's a funny boy, he was giggling in his sleep. It was his forced, no, pretend laugh. A knowing laugh you'd do with bad joke.
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| | We've both done it, I laugh my pretend laugh and he imitates, now he's doing it in his sleep.
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Esme and crying
| | This is hard work, what to do for the best, her bawling can get a real pain in the arse. Sometime she fakes it and can snap out of it with a sly laugh.
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| | I nearly lost it coming back from the shops, lugging the video camera around my neck, Bradley in the sling, put the beast of a pushchair up, Esme hopped in, I gave her the camera, she said no and while I struggled with Bradley to get him out of the sling, she held it over the side and dropped it on the floor.
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| | I've always said that I would never hit my kids, but I did. I clipped her across the top of her head, Man she went off. All the way home, "I want my Mummy!"
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| | Till I got them inside, and she dropped the camera on the floor again, while me telling her not to. I should have just grabbed it and prevented the incident, but I think we were both tired and looking for a re match.
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| | So, Whoosh. I do the same thing, give her a clip (I hear my old man here). "I want my Mummy!" "I want my Mummy!" "I want my Mummy!" I shout as loud enough as I can, "ENOUGH!" She looks shocked and shuts up. I pick her up and say sorry for shouting. Tell her about the video being very delicate, and give her a big hug. She melts into my arms.
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| | But, I sat her on the table after, she smiling and laughing, and explain again, and apologise for smacking her. We're friends again she agrees, though I can't help like feeling the big bully.
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| | When Amanda comes in, Esme says, Daddy smacked me, and insists I tell the story!
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| | Quickly, she moves the subject over to her nearly falling off the table.
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| | I wonder if, as I started to tell the story, she could see that having control of the telling, meant that I was the one that would come out of it smelling of roses. So she switched the topic of conversation.
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| | Methinks three year olds are pretty smart.
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| | And, do you know what it was with the dropping of the camera? She was more interested in getting her 'babies' comfortable. Awwww, Man!!!! Do I feel like a clutz.
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