Last Thursday, once again, for the sake of fun and surprising parenting, I bit the bullet.
I bit a whole AK47 charger full of them actually.
I offered, unprompted, to take Mimi and Finn for a Swedish hotdog after our fun-filled swim in Ballymun.
They very happily took me up on the offer.
The usual sense of aggressive tension was permeating the car park and entrance to the Church of the Holy MDF.
Having no intention of buying any colourful trinkets or flat-packed modern living, I steered them straight to the customer returns area (who in their right mind could be unhappy with their colourful trinkets or shiny flatpacked Billy bookcases?!) where the hotdogs can be found. And stressed, aggressive, short-tempered shoppers who have just been spat out of the checkout area €350 poorer than they had intended to be (cheap colourful trinkets have a nasty habit of combining into a surprisingly high total it seems…)
With barely three dozens angry Neanderthals in the queue ahead of us, we considered ourselves lucky.
The kids loved it. The nasty hotdogs, the chips, the doughnuts, but most of all the free refill cups.
I was tempted to try and explain to them that nothing is free in life, that the “free” refill is actually very much incorporated in the sales price.
But that would mean being boring old daddy, on a rare day when I had actually volunteered to take them to the big blue and yellow shed…
They loved all of it.
They loved the pool.
They loved the waterslide.
They loved the long hot shower after the cold water.
They loved their hotdog meals.
They loved the sugar rush from their refilled cups.
Unsurprisingly, they were like possessed beings for the drive back.
(But I did find it hard not to smile when they were wondering why there are so many words for a penis. “Penis! And Willy. And zizi” “And balls” “Not balls, Finn, they are the testicles, it’s not part of the penis, it’s the goolies, and the dangly bit is called the sack” “Santa’s sack!!!” Giggle giggle giggle giggle giggle giggle giggle)
A good day.