Didsburydad's Blog

From the not so mean streets of M20, blog about being a dad, Didsbury and dealing with parental confusion

Archive for the tag “Moses Baskets”

School Plays – A father’s story

Didsbury Son is in the school play. This means a week of tears and tantrums as he won’t let me give him direction or amend his script. Shakespeare – it was written for ad-lib, toilet gag and interpretation. I’ve been to the naughty step, but Didsbury Son’s thespian career throws me a dilemma.

The newest Didsbury Daughter prepares for a career on stage by staying asleep at a photo shoot.

The newest Didsbury Daughter prepares for a career on stage by staying asleep at a photo shoot.

For me, there are few things better than watching Didsbury Son on stage. His final junior school play was a romp. Aided by the fact that they had given up teaching in January and had to fill in from  9 and 3 until July (between ubiquitous theme days – see June blogs), it was lush and  Didsbury Son was brilliant. In Yiddish terms I schlepped nacchus and qvelled. In English, I was proud.
However, much more important than him being brilliant, he was on stage for 90% of the 80 minutes. This soothed my short attention span and meant I didn’t have to spend too long watching other Didsbury sons and daughters.
At a previous primary school the concerts were so bad I used to fantasise that the gushing Headmaster would bring out the music teacher and indict her for crimes against sound.
I am not precious about this. I don’t expect anyone else to be entranced by my little prince and I find it difficult to feign interest most of the time unless they are
A) really bad and I can tell jokes to Didsbury Son afterwards.
B) I’m a blood relative.
C) see A.
The lighting at the play wasn't really condusive to good photography

The lighting at the play wasn’t really condusive to good photography

So to Shakespeare for the under 15s
“All the world’s a stage but that doesn’t mean you should be on it”
“If music be the food of love this is as nourishing as One Direction playing in  McDonalds.”
“Soft you now, the fair Ophelia. Nymph, get the car started this is awful.”
So finding out that Didsbury Son is on stage 2 hours and 25 minutes in to this bardfest is a source of torture and its all my own failing. They are actually quite good and the costumes are worthy of more attention. However, after a day that began at 4am changing an explosion in a Moses Basket that could have seen it sink the original Moses. After a journeythat included enough time on the motorway to count lamposts, I can’t be alone in not wanting to sit on a school chair with acoustics designed under water waiting way past my new bedtime to see Didsbury Son  finally shine like a beacon whilst the audience is fretting about missing Masterchef.
What did we do in these situations before smartphones?
When school plays get too boring I retreat to a happy place.

When school plays get too boring I retreat to a happy place.

Ewan the Dream Sheep and Alien vs Predator

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Government cutbacks mean each Ewan the Dream Sheep has to straddle two Moses Baskets to qualify for Child Benefit.

Things I have learned as I tiptoe quietly trying not to cough past four weeks with twins

1. Good ideas are all about time and place. My suggestion of a support network for fathers that meets on midweek match nights in a pub with a screen was clearly thought-through and well received. My idea to advertise it as a call to the The Muslin Brotherhood was not.

2. It’s only a month in. I have the dad equivalent of tennis elbow, Papoose vertebrae.

3. Didsbury Son and I have to fight an overwhelming desire to put them in deeley boppers and rearrange them when they sleep so we can re-enact Alien vs Predator, or at least the 70s Smash adverts.

4. Iggle Piggle is the boss. Macca Pacca may have the ears and the moves but if you’re In The Nightgarden it’s Iggle or nish. I am already thinking up my anti- Thomas the Tank Engine rhetoric. Polluting, manipulative and unwatchable – viva Peppa.

5. Pleasures come in small bundles; sleeping babies, wind on demand and Didsbury Son, now Gulliver amongst the Lilliputians, not arguing over homework.

6. 3am has morphed from 3am Eternal to the 3am feed, wind, change. If that goes well I get up and then think about the babies.

7. I cannot remember what a hot drink tastes like.

8. I am just as besotted and dull as all the other Didsbury Dads I used to curl my lip at whilst I read the paper in Nero at a leisurely pace with Didsbury Son lost in DS world next to me after a morning mooch.

9. I have not lost all my faculties yet. Didsbury Son’s new sibling consolation Pokemon Wii challenge was won by me without my glasses or any idea which button II was tapping and why. This followed my Guitar Hero debacle. My loathing for the futility of Guitar Hero is only matched by my dislike for Mr Bean, but that’s another story.

10. I sometimes lose my thread.

11. They each weigh less than a Christmas turkey, can’t speak, cry randomly and break wind at will – but the twins are already running the show and ruling the roost. The house is messy, noisy, chaotic and I can’t hear the radio – and it’s bliss.

PS: Ewan the Dream Sheep is addictive. It has the same effect on babies as being in a dull lecture on a warm day after a big lunch has on me. This joy is only dampened by having “The Holly and The Ivy” going in a loop around my head at 33 instead of 45.

Next week: How to make yourself invisible when people discuss nappies

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Ewan is currently in therapy after turning up to work dressed as Holly Willoughby and Ivy Brennan from Corrie.

NB: Ewan the Dream Sheep was consulted fully before this blog went to press and signed consent forms for all pictures used, He has released the following statement. “WE have now had three Toy Story films yet faux fur toys are still subjected to working conditions that wre outlawed in 19th Century Britain. I hoe that brave blogs such as Didsbury Dad can fully expose the treatment with which we contend each day.” He added, ” The Holly and the Ivy, when they are both full grown… Baaa”

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