Little Madam was given her own PC for Christmas. It arrived yesterday.

This was her uncle’s old machine - as demonstrated by the patina of coffee stains across the keyboard and the lack of master installation software. It had been “fixed” by “someone we know” and we can’t complain that it took two months, as it was done for free.

Someone, clearly, has no idea about the necessity for keeping promises made to six-year-olds PROMPTLY.

The machine was unpacked from a crate and assembled on the desk that had been kept clear for 65 days under the watchful eye of Little Madam, who had her Christmas collection of software in her hot little hands all the time. I then had to break it to her that her new computer didn’t work.

She then said the cruellest thing that my daughter has ever said to me: “That’s alright, Daddy. You can fix it for me.”
*Stands sheepishly: My name is Gareth, and I am an inadequate father…*

So, I went to PC World and bought a new Compaq. Chequebook parenthood: the true sign that you are a Middle-Class Dad.

It’s Tiny Flirt’s first proper “sickie” today.

He’s not seriously ill, but projectile barfing isn’t a particularly sociable habit in a nursery full of other kiddies - so the nursery has asked that he stays at home until he stops.

Anyway, there is an itinerary for a proper sickie when you are only feeling slightly off-colour. Slobbing front of the telly watching some obscure sport (apparently England still play cricket! Remarkable!;) a bit of computer gaming; warm soup & soft bread; lots of gentle moaning whenever anyone shows concern (he’s a natural!) napping on the sofa…

Somebody has to teach blokes how to do these things properly, and as a responsible dad…

Do you watch “I’m a Celebrity - Get Me Out Of Here?”

Have you compared the Brit version with the US version?

There is an old joke about the USA - that it passed from barbarism to decadence without touching the intervening period of civilisation. The characters on the US version of “Celebrity” would confirm any prejudices in favour of the joke. Comparing the performance of the US celebrities with their Brit counterparts would also confirm any prejudices about the IQ differential.

The only thing I can say in favour of the US version is that the Brit “stiff upper lip” is a bluff: living in a nation with no indoor toilets, monthly hot baths and the worst food on the planet makes our celebs look tough in the jungle, but in truth it is no different to home. Where the Brits just had a go and told each other that the jungle was “really rather nice,” the Americans are really suffering - I mean, there is no room service!

We need an anthropology PhD student. There’s a doctoral thesis in this programme.

Tiny Flirt
Steal something else from somebody.

Little Nutter
Scream.

Little Madam
She has it lucky: she has two brothers to blame. And anyway, being a strong willed Little Madam, we can be certain that she will remind us that she doesn’t lose things: other people lose them for her.

Darling Wifey
This is an art form that took a decade to perfect.
1. Walk in and out of every room in the house.
2. Shout, “I can’t find it!”
3. Remind The Hubby that, if he still loved her, he would put down his newspaper and start searching.
4. Blame The Hubby for deliberately hiding it, because he found it in ten seconds.

Today, Tiny Flirt is toddling around the house wearing a pair of wings and a halo (Little Madam dressed him up as an angel.)

He is throwing small animals from Noah’s Ark at everyone, and giggling sadistically whenever he hits anyone.

I surrendered.

I shouldn’t have. I know that you should never show weakness when facing the enemy. I have learned through painful experience that the first person to flinch loses everything - not just the battle, but their shirt, their dignity, and all the sympathy of the rest of the world.

I know - I have brought it on myself. I was weak. I will pay.

I signed the contract.

Little Madam now has Satellite TV.

I felt guilty! I had dragged her out of her school, away from her friends, to a strange city and dumped her in a new place with no fields, no hills and, worse of all, no grandma to pick her up every day. She had already suffered the woeful neglect of an older sister whose parents cruelly have two more children (how could we?) And, worst still, there are no other children living next door.

Now she knows that it is perfectly possible for Daddy to back down. She fails to see why Daddy shouldn’t back down all the time.