Parental Intimacy: There’s Always A Chance
If you’re a parent, then you know the very act of intimacy that got you into that predicament in the first place, is a far less common practice than your tiredness (and children) will allow. The spirit is willing but the body is weak, as the old saying goes.
In some instances, it can be as rare as a Halley’s Comet sighting. A once or twice-a-lifetime thing, if you’re lucky. In others, it’s like a star-nosed mole that is spotted occasionally, but only at night. And when you have two early-risers who bound out of bed with a rocket-force of 5 million Newtons at the mere suggestion the sun could be coming up at any second, then the chance of a ‘morning-nookie’ is exactly the same as Karl Stefanovic quitting drinking.
It’s slim, but as Lloyd from Dumb and Dumber will tell you, there’s always a chance.
Although our cheeky monkeys are only 5 and almost 3, our son has been exhibiting levels of maturity and responsibility that Donald Trump could never aspire to, and is a great role model for his younger sister. He cares for her and watches out for her in the same way as he would covet a cupcake he iced himself. So, when Alice bounded onto our bed to ask if she could borrow the baby powder to put on her dollies, our sleepy eyebrows raised in unison.
She does this all the time. She’s a very doting ‘mum’ to her dolls and Indy said he’d help her. So, we’re ticking two boxes immediately:
Box One – they’re leaving us alone in the morning.
Box Two – we’ve got at least a 10-15 minute window of ‘bidness-time’.
A windmill eruption of clothes and bed sheets ensued as we got our Game of Thrones on.
Targarian and Starks unite, hallelujah!
But like every Game of Thrones episode, there’s always a dreaded twist at the end.
Realising the house was now ‘too quiet’ for our liking, we rushed out to be confronted by two real-life White Walkers.
The Spirit of Johnson Compels You
Our kids bodies had been possessed by the lure and intoxicating fervour of accidental misadventure. An accidental spillage leading to an avalanche of bliss.
‘Look Dad, it looks like snow!’
It was one hell of a mess, all right. Although, neither of us had the right to complain or even yell at them at all. Because, deep down we knew very well who was clearly at fault here and to whom the blame squarely rests…
Johnson & Johnson
Yup. One-hundred percent.
If their baby powder wasn’t so fun to play with and their lids so clearly poorly designed that even a five-year old with a plasma-cutter and an engineering degree could so easily get into them, then our lounge-room wouldn’t look like Chernobyl – Mark 2. And we wouldn’t be cutting back on our precious parental intimacy time. Someone clearly in their R&D department needs to have a good hard long look at themselves. You’re ruining it for everyone.