So, my first complete day off since spring(not counting last week)(the restaurant was shut, but I was in both days cleaning, organising and generally being a single restarauntist as The Womenfolk were away in the late 1800’s)(Chatsworth Country Fair) and we took The Child to case her new nursery prior to her starting on Wednesday. Admittedly that was after going for a ‘dirty breakfast’, although strictly speaking we went to Kay’s (next to the restaurant)(so I could nip in and do a couple of jobs, it being my day off and such) which is entirely not a ‘dirty’ breakfast but their “Fat Boy” is basically a “Full English”(but in The Wales) which will only ever be known in my Manc world as a “Dirty Breakfast” irrelevant of quality and surroundings… and any neighbouring eateries.
Anyway firstly (and quickly because I’d hate for this to stumble into the realms of a relevant parenting blog) the nursery was fantastic. Living as we do in an area twinned with Summer Bay(New South Wales) and T’Emmerdale(Up And T’Right T’Bit Of T’Wales) I admit I wasn’t expecting great things, largely because I grew up with a mum who was a celebrated childminder/nursery nurse/child catcher, but yeah… it was brilliant. Lovely people, lovely staff and a cracking place all round. However, and there has to be a however for fear of you thinking The Wife or someone chipper has gate crashed the post, they gave us a “contract” to fill in and sign.
Now I have no qualms about signing a contract as The Child’s owner, in theory I’ll being doing it regularly for all the cunning money making schemes I have in mind. After all, she has inherited my natural talent for singing, dancing and effortless aesthetic appeal, so it would surely be remiss not to capitalise(until she comes of age and sues us for breach of childhood). I do however have some issues with page 3(of the contract)(grow up), largely because The Wife won’t let me fill it in, largely because I allegedly won’t do it properly… Ha. Nonsense…
“Information About Your Child
Favourite Toy: iPhone 5 (Daddy’s)(currently broken)(unrelated)(allegedly)
Favourite Food: Whatever you’re having… No, literally. No interest in it at all until you sit down to eat it and then all of a sudden a little head pops up over the edge of the plate…
Special Diet: Buttons, mini Milkybars and Freddo’s(Jesus, how dear are they now? Scandalous. They were definitely 10p when we used to nick them from the place behind school… which we definitely didn’t do by the way… but, yeah, you know the one next to The Railway… think it’s a Chinese now?), all from Court’s. Deny all knowledge in front of The Wife though.
Dislikes: Macclesfield Town. Manchester United. Justin Fletcher*
Likes: Bouncing on ‘the big bed’ about 6″ from daddy’s head in the morning, preferably the morning of daddy’s first lie in since spring… Oh and Lucas, totes obvs or whatevs the yoof say now.
Use Of Dummy Or Other Comforts: Gin, mostly gin, like mother like daughter and all that, failing that a muslin.
Sleep Pattern: Generally the swastika, but also enjoys rotating 180 degrees under the duvet so when you first look round the door you think she’s been replaced by the worm in the Richard Scarry books, which is now a TV programme by the way and they have Amercianist accents. Had no idea they were American. Devo’d.
Any Fears: Our deepest fear is not that she is inadequate, but that she is powerful beyond measure. Essentially we are quite concerned that she might be an evil genius and/or the second coming and possibly a bit left handed.
Any medical, physical or emotional needs: She did start to look quite ginger early on, but that appears to have passed so the need for hats is basically just for the fashion. Basically just needs Albert. Not that we’re sending her with Albert, due to the likelihood of the apocalypse if he got lost.
Able To Or Not Able To: Ermmmmm…. Speak Walloon? Play the banjo? Poach a whole salmon in a dishwasher? Possibly, possibly not. Ask her… in Walloon.”
Anyway, we’re off, just need to take a picture of her in clothes to put on the Facebook, I know from last week that you have to do that before they go off to big school, nursery, university, new job in the city etc…
* I might have helped her with that one. A bit.
A Father Of Daughters 