Christ – need to take a long hard look at my skincare regime.
Stepped up to do a nursery school run for two 3 year old honorary nephews this morning due to parental illness / work commitments. Despite warnings of potential chaos and offers to subcontract my subcontract – I was brimming with epically misplaced confidence.
After desperately googling ‘how to fit a car seat’ and breezing one of the lads through a short but dramatic meltdown, we bonded en route through sustained abuse of the car radio which stubbornly refused to belt out anything other than static.
Deeply unimpressed at my inability to play tunes and listen to Google maps at the same time, the dynamic duo were wavering on just how on board they were with this new school run structure and after christening me a succession of poo poo related names, we finally arrived to my undying relief.
‘Right – out you get lads’ I said cheerily.
Enter random pedestrian to witness my abject helplessness.
‘Don’t you want to get out and help Daddy’ pipes in this delightful Samaritan.
‘Oh no – I’m not actually their Dad’ explains I – hoping to justify my total lack of authority.
‘Ahhhh’ says my self appointed new helper… and changing tack, she generously attempted some further assistance..
‘Don’t you want to get out and help Grandpa?’