Sunday. 6.30pm. The children want a cuddle.
Except it’s not actually a cuddle they want. It’s a cuddle with an arm wrestle, some tickling, and some chucking about.
They’ve been up for 12 hours now. We’ve been to the shops, out for lunch, to a swimming lesson, to the park, and had dinner. Is now the time for some wrestling?
Well, it depends upon your point of view. One person in the story wants to slump on the seat, turning themself into a human can of lager. The others in the story want to remind themselves once again that daddy is a tower of strength.
Who gets their way?
It’s a tough one. It’s been a hard hard day, and that can of lager will be so tasty.
But the can of lager will still be there, being tasty, in the fridge after their bed time. And when they’re all drunk, there will be more, and then more again. But there’s only so many times that the children will want to bounce up and down on daddy. There’s only so much time remaining before their growth and daddy’s increasing decrepitude mean he’s no longer the tower of strength.
Come on then monsters, hear me roar!!
Hear the beautiful sound of their unbridled laughter.
This is what parenting’s about. The bruises, aches, and alcohol deprivation can be sorted later. Because when they stop wanting to wrestle, they’ll stop for good, and that shared joy will be gone forever.