tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36904729457308520362008-05-09T14:21:47.910+01:00DadsDinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00409820799442134743noreply@blogger.comBlogger129125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3690472945730852036.post-76675688961390758092008-05-09T11:00:00.002+01:002008-05-09T11:05:32.245+01:00

Dear Dave, Yep, you're right, that's outrageous. When you take a small child in to see the doctor, you need to be put at ease. You don't need the doctor sticking her head out the door for a double-check and then turning to the child and saying, "Is mummy not here?" as if you're invisible. Being treated like a second-class parent isn't helpful. It's fairly typical, though. I discovered this only

DadsDinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00409820799442134743noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3690472945730852036.post-74271258761723375542008-05-07T10:15:00.002+01:002008-05-07T10:18:52.445+01:00

Dear Dave, A couple of weeks back, you asked about any differences I'd noticed between the way housedads and housemums bring up children. I told you how my priorities sometimes seem to vary from the mums I meet. I'll often hold off in teaching the kids new skills, such as using cutlery, until a time when I think they'll learn quickly rather than pushing them to develop sooner simply because '

DadsDinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00409820799442134743noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3690472945730852036.post-58470569207027002612008-05-02T11:20:00.000+01:002008-05-02T11:24:54.543+01:00

Dear Dave, Famously, the last time I went into the city to buy trousers, I came back with an Xbox 360 instead. It was a couple of years ago and I made the mistake of going into GAME at the start of my trip. I was so surprised to find the consoles in stock, I bought one immediately. I hadn't counted on how much they weigh. I was an aching, sweaty mess within minutes. I half-heartedly glanced

DadsDinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00409820799442134743noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3690472945730852036.post-91186331362330323122008-04-30T10:00:00.004+01:002008-04-30T10:12:15.360+01:00

Dear Dave, It's amazing how quickly things change when small children are around. They're constantly getting bigger, developing new skills and requiring different care and attention. Just when you think you've got it sussed, they learn a new trick that turns your world upside down. Whether it's rolling over, eating solid food or knackering the lock on the front door so you have to climb in and

DadsDinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00409820799442134743noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3690472945730852036.post-69398749303220925362008-04-25T09:30:00.003+01:002008-04-25T09:33:51.286+01:00

Dear Dave, I forgot to pre-order Wii Fit. I will probably be the only person in the country not spending the weekend hopping on top of a white plastic tea-tray in the vain hope that a videogame can make them slim and athletic. Since everyone at Nintendo is currently buried under an ever-increasing mountain of cash and it will take a while to dig them out, there may not be any more stock for

DadsDinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00409820799442134743noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3690472945730852036.post-55346810288781186992008-04-23T09:30:00.006+01:002008-04-23T09:38:40.218+01:00

Dear Dave, What constitutes a last shot? That's a tricky question. It's all very well yelling, 'We're going home! Time for one last go!' when you want to leave the swing park but what do you actually mean? Is it one go on everything or a single shot on one thing? What if one child wants a turn on the swings and the other wants to go down the slide? A turn on the swings probably has to be a

DadsDinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00409820799442134743noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3690472945730852036.post-17662759701206919932008-04-18T09:00:00.000+01:002008-04-18T09:00:22.029+01:00

Dear Dave, Marie is a girl. Obviously, I've been aware of this for a while. From the moment she was born, I was prepared for her to be a little different from the boys. I expected that perhaps she might be more creative or chatty or, let's face it, awkward, and, indeed, she is all these things. I've done my best to treat her the same as the boys but it's happened anyway. What I wasn't expecting

DadsDinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00409820799442134743noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3690472945730852036.post-56926631631065358022008-04-16T10:30:00.002+01:002008-04-16T10:39:19.949+01:00

Dear Dave, Good to hear the routine is settling down and you're managing to get out of the house before half past ten in the morning. Shame you need to be back by eleven in order to give Daisy her third breakfast and change her nappy... before heading back out to collect Sam from nursery... only to hurry home for an early lunch... allowing you to go out for a walk to get Daisy to have a nap...

DadsDinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00409820799442134743noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3690472945730852036.post-755000451911507072008-04-11T09:45:00.008+01:002008-04-11T11:08:30.692+01:00

Dear Dave, Your last letter was very short and covered in interesting stains. It appeared to have been written in a hurry and was barely legible. I take it that life is a little hectic now that Liz has been back at work from maternity leave for a couple of weeks. Nonetheless, the very fact that you managed to write at all implies you're coping marvellously with looking after two children on your

DadsDinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00409820799442134743noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3690472945730852036.post-4536499473441454772008-04-09T09:30:00.004+01:002008-04-09T09:31:11.884+01:00

Dear Dave, Shoot first, sightsee later... For some reason, as I fought my way along a cobbled pavement through a coach-load of Italian teenagers going in the opposite direction, the tag-line to the film In Bruges kept springing to mind. With hindsight, it was probably because I was actually in Bruges at the time. Still, it would have been sensible advice in any other over-priced, medieval

DadsDinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00409820799442134743noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3690472945730852036.post-69753037248933483592008-03-27T09:00:00.001Z2008-03-27T08:39:09.134Z

Dear Dave, I've got a sore head. I think it's partly due to the cold I've had for the last few days but it's mostly down to the cable channel we discovered recently which is filled almost entirely with ancient Sonic the Hedgehog and Super Mario Brothers cartoons. The boys have gone crazy over it. They demand to watch it every time it's their turn to choose. Coupled with the fact that Lewis got

DadsDinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00409820799442134743noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3690472945730852036.post-17912601606211452722008-03-25T14:00:00.001Z2008-03-25T13:53:50.341Z

Dear Dave, I'm getting old. I have to sit down to put on my socks, my eyebrows are becoming alarmingly bushy and I've started finding phones complicated. I'll be bald and have no teeth any day now. I'm forgetful and slightly mad already. It won't be long until the kids are the ones wheeling me around, rather than the other way about. I don't fancy that. Knowing them, they'll leave me on a bus

DadsDinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00409820799442134743noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3690472945730852036.post-23421497006512641252008-03-21T11:15:00.001Z2008-03-21T11:17:22.066Z

Dear Dave, It's the school holidays. No more having to get up early to make packed lunches and to harangue children into eating their breakfasts quickly. No more clubs and classes. No more having to hang around the playground every afternoon for half an hour because the boys come out twenty minutes apart. Just a sweeping expanse of time to fill with day-trips, leisurely activities and grocery

DadsDinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00409820799442134743noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3690472945730852036.post-45063920163626893942008-03-21T11:10:00.002Z2008-03-21T11:15:52.968Z

I saw the universe in a cup of coffee, reflected light twinkling in the swirling black. I wondered at the vastness of creation and the care with which it was made. I felt warm and comforted. I saw beauty in a cherry tree, a canopy of blossom rippling in the breeze. I marvelled at the complexity of life and smiled at the sunshine on my face. I felt warm and comforted. I saw your glory in a

DadsDinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00409820799442134743noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3690472945730852036.post-12178771042680058432008-03-19T09:45:00.005Z2008-03-19T09:48:29.012Z

Dear Dave, How's Sam getting on at nursery these days? Marie really enjoyed it at first. Then, after a couple of weeks, she comprehended it was every day and started complaining that she didn't want to go any more. She shuffled towards the nursery door each morning, shoulders slumped, head hung low, and complained she was tired. I showed very little sympathy. I told her to get used to it 'cos

DadsDinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00409820799442134743noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3690472945730852036.post-59211943393551570512008-03-14T09:30:00.004Z2008-03-14T09:48:55.741Z

Dear Dave, Remember back when the Teletubbies were going to make the nation's children stupid, unable to speak properly and sexually confused? What with all the furore over the negative influences of computer games, no one's really grumbled about the educational content of TV programmes for pre-school children for a while. Is this really justified? Should we be more concerned? Is it time to

DadsDinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00409820799442134743noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3690472945730852036.post-6001049784078184132008-03-12T09:30:00.011Z2008-03-12T15:37:24.975Z

Dear Dave, Congratulations on managing to locate and purchase a Wii. I'm sure Sam will thank you in a year or two when he finally gets to grips with the controller and stops battering the cat with it. In the meantime, you can break the console in with a bit of Zelda and some Mario Galaxy. It will also be invaluable for keeping yourself entertained on long nights sitting up with a grumpy baby -

DadsDinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00409820799442134743noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3690472945730852036.post-58633672273367515472008-03-07T09:30:00.002Z2008-03-07T09:19:40.022Z

Dear Dave, Although Father's Day was a long time ago, the saga of the flood had already begun. I was really hoping it would have ended last week. A plumber and a joiner were supposed to come out and stop a pipe from rattling every time anyone went past. It never rattled before we had all the work done, so the insurers agreed to get it sorted ages ago. It's the equivalent pipe of the one next

DadsDinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00409820799442134743noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3690472945730852036.post-15796601269384942582008-03-05T10:00:00.002Z2008-03-05T10:08:28.761Z

Dear Dave, Glad to hear you all survived Mother's Day for another year. Taking your mum out to a restaurant was a smart move - it will have thrown the attention off Liz. Just as Valentine's Day can be awkward for single people, Mother's Day is a bizarre emotional minefield for role-reversed parents. I remember, way back on Father's Day, I mentioned how the advertising and social expectation were

DadsDinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00409820799442134743noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3690472945730852036.post-73586277332963436622008-02-29T10:30:00.002Z2008-02-29T10:34:54.777Z

Dear Dave, You're right - those Children's Traffic Club books are great, aren't they? My kids all loved them and became much more aware of road safety after working through them. Marie now complains whenever she ends up next to the road as we walk along the pavement holding hands. Of course, they only help up to a certain point. Fraser's reached a stage where he's forgotten lots of the

DadsDinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00409820799442134743noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3690472945730852036.post-3275615852711877352008-02-27T09:30:00.004Z2008-02-27T09:44:39.530Z

Dear Dave, I guess you don't have long to go now. Another fortnight and Liz will be back at work. Your life will be a whirl of sterilising bottles and defrosting milk. You'll have to figure out how to fit all Daisy's feeds and nappy changes around ferrying Sam to nursery and clubs. It'll be a constant rush to keep up with the timetable and you'll have to do it all while suffering from broken

DadsDinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00409820799442134743noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3690472945730852036.post-41046176035093376522008-02-22T09:30:00.003Z2008-02-22T09:40:39.283Z

Dear Dave, When I was small, my parents' TV had a remote control with a handful of buttons on it. You could turn the set on, select a channel (from a choice of three) and maybe even change the volume. It worked by sound rather than infra-red but it was probably pretty swish for the time. Pulling the curtains shut quickly did always switch the programme over to ITV, though. The remote apparently

DadsDinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00409820799442134743noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3690472945730852036.post-42708757783497104462008-02-20T10:30:00.001Z2008-02-20T10:36:22.412Z

Dear Dave, Some things didn't really change when I became a housedad. Bringing up kids is very like running an IT project - for some reason, I'm always behind schedule. With IT projects, the difficulty is that there are always unexpected snags. Typical issues range from a logical inconsistency in the specification (i.e. you've been asked to do the impossible) to a discovery that the highly paid

DadsDinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00409820799442134743noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3690472945730852036.post-64185905864828131322008-02-15T15:00:00.003Z2008-02-18T21:30:12.087Z

Dear Dave, Well, so much for my new found freedom. Just as I was getting used to a couple of hours without children every weekday morning, the February Week holiday has arrived. More than that, it turns out that the name is misleading. It's actually the February Week-and-a-bit holiday. Ho-hum. I was back to steering a trolley and three under-eights round the supermarket today. It wouldn't have

DadsDinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00409820799442134743noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3690472945730852036.post-32511855036502662492008-02-13T09:30:00.001Z2008-02-13T09:28:03.980Z

Dear Dave, I'm sorry to hear that Sam has lost his cuddly green cat called Blue Rabbit. Have you checked inside his wellies, behind the sofa and under his mattress? How about coat pockets and the freezer? (Yeah, sorry, I know you're an old hand at this and you've probably searched everywhere twice but sometimes it's easy to overlook the obvious places). Before Christmas, Marie lost a pink hat

DadsDinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00409820799442134743noreply@blogger.com