The Favourite Parent

In my next life I’m coming back as The Favourite Parent.  In our house my Husband is The Favourite Parent.

I can repeatedly scream like a banshee beg plead talk in a stern voice and will be ignored like any stop street in our suburb (a story for another day), but let Dad step in and talk in his I’m-not-taking-any-shit-voice and the children will hop.  The man can make them pack away toys and brush their teeth like real little troopers. But let me ask them and there’s mutiny.  (Never!  I’m NEVER brushing my teeth!)

Take this afternoon for an example.  I decided it was a great time to bake some cookies for the week for school snacks, so the kids each got their dough and we were doing the shapes.  And they were all singing twinkle twinkle little star like good little Von Trapps.  Etienne helped as usual, but then wanted to go off and water the garden.  And what do my ungrateful children do?  They run after their Dad.  All 3 of them.  And leave me eating cookie dough.

They left me feeling like The Least Favourite Parent.  Which is completely ridiculous, but hey.  I know I shouldn’t complain.  And this isn’t really complaining.  I always admire the easy way he has with them, they really worship him.

And then I was tidying up the kitchen whilst Dad was bathing the children and I hear Isabel asking for Mom to wash her hair, not Dad.  Well, let me tell you, I skipped down the passage so fast I almost forgot about the damn cookies in the oven.

A little win!  At last!

A great week to all of you, hope you also have some moments of being The Favourite Something.

ps Just so you know, the party theme for the day is Lion King 3.