Bow down to the master of distraction, suckers.

"Put the number 3 back and take a small one," says Polly.

"No, my is giving the number 3 for Daddy," says Mick, proffering the number 3 shaped biscuit at me.

"I don't want it, put it back please," I say.

Mick walks up to the cooling rack and puts the small biscuit that we gave him permission to eat back. He keeps the enormous number 3 biscuit that he's been specifically forbidden from eating in his hand. He's got a look on his face which says "I fooled you all. Now I shall eat the massive number 3 biscuit and none of you will notice. Bow down to the master of distraction, suckers."


I walk over to take the number 3 biscuit out of his hand. As he sees me coming he grabs it so tight that the biscuit explodes. He crumples to the floor and starts crying in humiliated despair.


"Ha Ha Mick," says Elly.

I walk over to Elly who has her own biscuit, take the remaining biscuit out of her hand and put it back on the cooling rack.

"No, Daddy, I'm sorry, please give me back the biscuit." she whimpers.

I feel terrible because she's only had pancakes at after school club plus two pancakes with golden syrup once she got home plus half a 3 biscuit.

Poor kid.

"No, you shouldn't say "Ha Ha Mick," to Mick when he's crying. It's really cruel."

She moans a defeated "Oh,", walks into the hall and sits on the stairs.


Five minutes later we hear her start to cry.

"Oh, I can't do anything, I can't even play on Cbeebies."

"Oh, I can't do anything, I can't even play on Cbeebies."

"Oh, I can't do anything, I can't even..."

"Yeah, I can hear you," I say.

"Daddy, please can I play on Cbeebies?" she says, although because she's crying so much it sounds like "Da had ad ad eee eee eee, ple hease ca haan I play hay eh hay eh hay or hon sea bee hee bees?"

"No Elly, No,"

"Why not Daddy?"

I rack my brains for a way out. I consider "It's O.K. with me, but you'll have to run it past Mum first" which I learnt from Polly the other day, but decide against it.

"Wait here, I just need to get the instruction manual for how to look after you that they gave us when you were born," I say, jumping up to find a childcare manual.

"Polly, have you seen the instruction manual for the children?" I say.

"Which one?" she asks.

"Oh, it doesn't matter, I found it," I say, pulling down the NCT Complete Book of Unrealistic Expectation and opening it at random.

"O.K. Elly, lets see what the instruction manual says, let's see - ah here it is, listen to this - "If your child is crying whilst asking for something you must never give it to her. If you do, you will break your child."

Elly fixes me with a helpless look. She suspects that I'm lying to her but that she also understands that she has no way of verifying this.


She sighs, stops crying, turns away in disgust and walks off.

I look down at the book in my hands. The page says "Remember, you are the adult, you owe it to your child to treat her with love and, most importantly, honesty."


I made that last bit up. The book really said "If the object is sharp or quite large, call your doctor for advice." but that doesn't really resonate as harmoniously.