Two weeks ago today, I witnessed something that fully justified my decision to take time off work to look after my daughters.
I now have the perfect answer to every question I’ll ever get asked about why I deemed it appropriate to step out of the office to become a stay-at-home father.
That moment was a tangible flag in the ground that I can look back on in weeks and months and years to come and say, that’s why I did it. These few seconds were emblematic of why I wanted to care for the girls and what I hoped to get from it.
When you write a blog you invariably end up looking at quite a few other blogs, which is only fair if you expect anyone to spend time reading your own trifling offerings. Well it turns out that people who write blogs are pretty fond of lists.
In fact some bloggers seem to exist in an alternate reality solely comprised of lists. I expect this is because lists are pretty easy to write. And quick. Don’t underestimate the importance of speed when you’re trying to churn out articles on a regular basis. Particularly when you’re fitting it in between nappy changes.
Happily, I’ve managed to avoid a glut of lists so far (with the exception of my post on the things I least enjoy about being a full-time father). However, today’s post demands one as will become clear.
This isn’t the blog post that I had lined up for this week, but occasionally something so earthshattering happens that it bulldozes everything out of its path and muscles its way to the front of the queue. Such an event played out in our kitchen this morning.
I’d assumed it would be a normal day, and it had been up to the point where Lola, Mina and I sat down to eat breakfast. It was then however that Lola, holding a flaccid triangle of fried egg on her fork midway between her plate and her mouth, elected to make her declaration:
“Daddy, I don’t like Frozen anymore.”