Poz chooses to wear his jeans with the fly round the back. I try a mainstream tactic, "Do you want to wear your trousers like that, or like daddy (pointing), with the button round the front?" But he’s adamant, so I leave it. I’m unshaven, got odd socks on and there’s a button missing from my top, so it seems churlish to press the point.
Things seem to be getting tougher and the edges are fraying a little more than before. One child to two adults was a good ratio, two on two effectively means we’re out-gunned. They have youth on their side and they operate guilt and alcohol free to boot. We chose to have them, they didn’t choose to have us, so I cut Poz some slack.
He rides to nursery with me in the front, without a seatbelt, drumming on the dash, sticking his head out of the window like a dog. When I shout ‘Police’ he jumps giggling into the footwell. It’s a laugh because it’s a small village road, he waves at people as we go and tells me how he’s not going to touch the door lever, only the window button.
“If we pull this, dad, we could fall out and be made dead under the wheels,” he says reassuringly. I press the central locking all the same. When we pull into the nursery the other parents, who come from further afield, frown at us for giving their brats bad ideas. Poz and I don’t care, we’re just lucky and loving it, having a cool ride in.
It’s a rod for my back this morning, though, as we’re going into town.
“You have to get in your seat today, Poz, as we’re going on the fast road.”
“I’m going to sit with you, in the front,” says Poz.
“You sit in the back, today, I sit in the front, because we’re going to the shops and the Police will shout at me if they see you in the front. You don’t want daddy to get in trouble do you?”
“Aww” he pouts, unconvinced, and kicks the ground.
I feel a bit limp reasoning this way, and reneging on our thing, but if everybody did just as they liked, like we like to, some kids would surely fall out and be made dead under the wheels. It’s a fine line and wherever a fine line exists attitudes and outcomes will tend to fall on either side of it.
Dizzee Rascal says, “Think about life cause there ain’t no re run, no dvd, no second season.” This made me laugh, it’s a crude rhyme but he’s a charmer so it doesn't matter.
Later that evening, I give little Liza her milk and she konks out on my chest, rubbing her fluffy little head on my sternum. It's a precious moment as I hold her and she snuggles up to me and, for a moment, I'm glad for the missing button on my top, right where her face is.
Later that evening, I give little Liza her milk and she konks out on my chest, rubbing her fluffy little head on my sternum. It's a precious moment as I hold her and she snuggles up to me and, for a moment, I'm glad for the missing button on my top, right where her face is.
