A DAD'S LIFE:THE MISSUS had to go to Rome to work for the weekend. She decided to bring the elder by herself. We wondered how her sister would take the news that she was being left at home with only me for company. Pretty well, it turned out.
It appears getting me by myself means open season. There was a complicit, unsaid message passed between the two girls when the news was delivered. The younger’s initial response was to rise up in arms at the unfairness of it all, but I was amazed at how quickly she backed down. There’s her sister taking off for a weekend of gelato in Italy and she has not cranked up the wobbler to max.
All we had done was to promise she would be taken off herself at some vague later date. When has such an ethereal, non-specific utterance ever had a calming effect on a child when her sibling has so obviously been granted an unreasonable and unfair bonus? Maybe when her father has just winked at her and, when no one was looking, whispered in her ear: “Don’t worry, we’ll have a ball. Do whatever you want, loadsa treats.”
It’s not from the manual, it’s not approved by the parenting regulator, but all I was doing was cutting the tantrum off at the pass. You could see it build – the horror first at the favouring of the other child, the realisation of all that other child would be receiving, all calmed by my few swift words.
She had me. She knew it. Off the other two went to the airport on Friday morning and between then and school on Monday, she had the world on a stick. Fortunately, spending all that time with me didn’t appeal to her a whole lot. As such, time was freed up as she flitted between a number of friends’ houses.
One aspect of gender stereotyping that I will never attempt to change is the attitude among many of the kindlier mothers that a man left alone with a child for the weekend must be in dire straits – even when that child is seven and can look after herself better than he can.
I had offers of sleepovers, lunches and dinners streaming in. Laziness could have prevailed and I could have scheduled a full weekend of visits and nights away for her, having myself fed and watered at each drop-off and pick-up, but decency prevailed and the younger and I chilled together a while.
Night one, we're eating pizza and chips and sipping pop. She wants a movie. There's the usual cartoon mind-numbing fare available but something catches my eye towards the end of the listings. Uncle Buck. Is that appropriate? A John Hughes classic, John Candy giving it socks.
I remember a young Macauley Culkin makes an appearance, which must mean it’s cutesy, but also a scene with Candy threatening a teen boy with a pneumatic drill. Mmm, it’s that or more Chipmunks and I can’t face Alvin. I risk the driller thriller.
She doesn't like it. She loves it. Uncle Buckis the funniest thing she's ever seen.
On night two she has a friend over and insists they watch it together. It gets a third airing on night three. In between, I hear her telling people about it. She’s analysing the family dynamics, comparing the small kids to the teenage character, assessing Buck’s discipline techniques.
The future of parenting in this house may follow the School of Buck.
The whole weekend is beyond easy. Having one by herself, just to focus all your spoiling on (occasionally mind you, couldn’t do this every weekend, they’d go insane with over-attention), is a pleasure.
I’m a glutton. Leave me alone without a list of jobs to attend to and a pile of food containers grows beside me. Chinese, ribs, ice cream, a token salad box, crisps, dips, more ribs. Where did those onion rings go? Light the fire, draw the curtains, goodbye cruel world.
Fortunately, I have children who appreciate these skills and who are actively seeking to nurture their own.
We eat, we talk, watch Buck, eat some more, visit friends, sleep, do it again. Lots of eating, lots of talking. I’m looking forward to the other two coming back but will miss the cave-like quality of the past few days.
A weekend like this is the Stone Age equivalent of gnawing on bones and drawing stick men on walls while the wind howls outside. The younger and I, we’d take this over a weekend abroad any day.