My foul Father's Day
BREAKFAST in bed, a bar of my favourite chocolate, the Coldplay CD and rare little kindnesses being shown to me all day...I wish every day was Father's Day.
Whenever a deliberate wind up began - something my three are experts at - one of them would remind the others 'not today., it's dad's day...leave him'.
It was as if an amnesty had been declared on baiting me and sending my blood pressure soaring.
Lunch was provided before we headed for a barbecue at the boys' football presentation afternoon.
Burgers and beers were bought for me to the extent that I thought I was living in some kind of dream - perhaps they were trying to play with my mind to send me mad.
As the afternoon and day drew to a close and the fathers had all enjoyed a couple of Budweisers, a game of lads v dads was suggested.
Two minutes in I brought the ball neatly under control and was about to pass when I was hit by an almighty crunch from behind in a fair but very, very hard tackle.
"Who did that?" I howled as I clutched my increasingly dodgy knee.
"I did but I won the ball, dad," beamed 12-year-old Alex as he declared the love and goodwill of Father's Day officially over.
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Bad Dad
A look at life with small and teenage children.
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