I Love You. Piss Neck.

“You deserve it for cheating on your wife”, was the rather blunt view of my boss on the Monday morning.  Don’t get me wrong, what I did wasn’t ideal and I’m not proud but I felt like I’d been punished enough.

News flash… Having a child is exhausting.


As a couple you don’t get enough time together. Things get fraught. You look elsewhere for solace. I just happened to look for it in a Leisure Centre car park…

B and I went swimming. Mrs DB needed an hour off after some Herculean efforts, so we went for a trip out. It was fine. It was uneventful. It passed an hour. However, we dawdled. Undoubtedly it was my fault. We were late for lunch. I’d remembered there were roadworks. I was a tad stressed.

Then I got a shout. “Hello”, came from across the car park. It wasn’t the right time for a hello. It was an ex-colleague (Just a colleague Mrs DB, I’ve told you again and again), who I hadn’t seen for about 18 months. We were neither best of friends nor best of enemies. She was with her kids, I was now with mine. We had a quick chat. I made my excuses. And then it happened. I couldn’t stop myself. It just came out.

“Bye then, nice to see you” I shouted across the car park. “I LOVE YOU”. I shouted across a car park.

“Get in the car B. Quickly.”.

We drove home in silence. Apart that is from the occasional bursts of giggle/under the breath expletive from me.

“Why are you laughing Daddy?”



We got home at the same time as the Tesco man was delivering. Mrs DB was a tad stressed. She’d dropped a bottle of sauce on the kitchen floor. It had smashed. I felt the need to be a good husband. I started to clear it up…. only I wasn’t a good husband.

“I told another woman I loved her” I blurted out. WHAT? WHO IS SHE?

I explained… I’m a plonker apparently. I can accept that. I was forgiven.

Revenge is a dish best served… warm… apparently.


That afternoon we went out to a local farm play centre. It had cows. I love cows. B loves cows.

“Daddy, can I have a shoulder carry while we watch the cows?”

“Of course.” (Ah, he loves me. Proud face).

Next to us was a little girl and her daddy, also watching the cows. She politely asked her daddy if she could go for a wee wee. Naturally, daddy obliged and off they went.

[From above] “Daddy”.


I need a wee wee.”

“Ok, no problem” [I refer you to earlier blogs about how good I’m getting with toilet trips].



“I’ve had a wee wee”.

“Eh? When? Before, you mean?”

“Not before”.


A big one or a little one?”

“A big one”.


And then the wave hit me. Warm, so warm. So cruel.

I got him down from my back, just as my hoodie started to fill. Just as the warm demoralising feeling spread down my back. I looked at him. I sighed. I giggled. He giggled. I frowned.

“Only I’m allowed to giggle at this B. Not you. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Can I have a shoulder carry?”

“Err… (remembering that as a father I can’t swear). What do you think?”

And so, we walked down the field. He, walking like John Wayne, me looking like I’d just done a hard aerobics session, a V shaped “sweat” patch glistening across my back.

Luckily he had a change of clothes.

I had the hand dryer in the gents. Dyson hadn’t envisaged that user experience.


News flash… Having a child is exhausting.

And, at times, you get pissed on.


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