Boys boys boys…

Hello again… it’s Dave here. Back in January I audaciously gatecrashed danni’s blog… the great blog hijack of 2016… within the Salford South Parliamentary Constituency.

My purpose then was to reflect on the journey (literally, in parts) that led me to fall totally head-over-heels in love with this adorable, beautiful, wonderful little lady.

But today’s intrusion (yes, intrusion) is a projection rather than a reflection and, as with any half decent forecast, it must be based on sound evidence… so, let’s look at the evidence.

Now that the preamble is officially complete (you’ll be delighted to learn), some context seems appropriate; danni and I are incredibly eager to make a happy little home for our family(ies)… familyies:

noun (plural familyiesies)

1[TREATED AS SINGULAR OR PLURAL] A group consisting of two parents and their children from other relationships, blended to live together as a unit:What the heck is that? Is that one of those familyies?

Pronunciation: fam(ə)li(es)

Our main aim when we eventually take the leap into moving in together and become ‘familyiesies’ is to ensure our lads feel like it’s their home. We’ve discussed with them and considered lots of boys bedroom ideas that we think might appeal to their football mad/car mad and generally mad little brains. I think having shared interests makes this process a relatively easy one, although it’s obviously not the only thing we’ve had to consider.

Whilst this is something that can’t happen soon enough for danni and I, there are aspects that strike fear into my heart! Perhaps  This is a little dramatic… it’s probably more accurate to describe this feeling as ever so slightly tight chested; an extremely mild anxiety… maybe apprehension rather than anxiety. So, what is it? What is it that provokes this melodramatic rambling? It’s boys… both aged 6! Consider them ‘Exhibit A’.

Whilst relatively (heavily stressed use of ‘relatively’) angelic, well mannered, cooperative, intelligent and sensible when apart, when brought together… well, all hell breaks loose as the combat for alpha infant male is embarked upon. In fact, scratch the ‘infant’ part… I surrender! They’re welcome to the overall alpha male title.

I wonder if this is as confusing to read as it is to write; I’m excited yet I’m intimidated!

The calm before the storm is always in the short car journey over to danni’s place:

Me: “So, what are we going to do at danni’s house, Oscar?”

Oscar: “Play nicely and use manners and share, daddy”

Me: “That sounds nice, Oscar”

Oscar: “Can I have a packet of Match Attax now?”

Me: “No”

Cut to 10 minutes later…

An appropriate soundtrack would be Barber’s Adagio for Strings, the action captured in extreme slow motion (a la Oliver Stone’s Platoon). Headlocks, rolling around, arms and legs everywhere. Totally intent on winding each other up at every opportunity, excitedly boasting about having something the other doesn’t have… one mocking the other whilst danni or I have words with the counterpart.

And the above is interspersed with periods of play which inevitably, following a short period of reasonably docile bliss, descends into something that resembles a wrecking yard, evolving thereafter into a post apocalyptic wasteland as something surreal on Cartoon Network captures their gaze. And repeat… for 12 hours.

And, just think, danni and I, two fairly intelligent sensible(ish) grown ups have made a conscious decision to induce this destructive togetherness into being a permanent fixture. Are we nuts?

Yet, when the war is over, they’re our little boys, with their sensitive, fragile little souls. They want their bedtime stories, they want their teddy bears, they want to be tucked up in bed and they want to be kissed goodnight. Let them rest their weary heads and dream of the next day’s onslaught.

*This post was written in collaboration with in homify*


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