After a London-based career, writing and producing children's TV, Chris is now a stay at home dad to his son 'Sam'.
As Out of Depth Dad Chris gives a warts-and-all account of being a new parent feeling more than little out of his depth. https://outofdepthdad.wordpress.com
That's what you say about little boys, isn't it? If they're lucky, they might grow up to be footballers. It's a social norm, an acceptable comment to pass on a baby. My frustration is not with the old lady. She is certainly not the first to have said it to Sam, and (I'm sure) won't be the last. My frustration is with the aspiration that lies behind it?
What happened next? You panicked didn't you? Don't be coy, everyone does. Suddenly, the realization dawns that your little crying and pooing creature (that you're not allowed to return to the shop because you lost the receipt or something) has cast off its most endearing quality - complete immobility.
There comes a time in every parent's life when sitting in a nappy-scented house, for hour after hour, cleaning up sick, sterilizing bottles and watching <em>Judge Rinder</em>, is no longer the fun it once was. It's at this point that the idea of taking your child to eat in a restaurant first crosses your mind.
I'm not 100% sure that the way we approach Halloween now is a change for the better. It probably is a good thing that kids aren't dressing in bin bags any more (I'm not certain they were particularly fire-retardant) but the amount of effort that is spent on costumes for the little ones these days seems a little OTT to me.
Let me give you an example. Growing up in Manchester, with its trademark rain, the first decade of my life was spent feeling never less than semi-damp in purple cagoule. I was 13 before I realized most people didn't rustle when they walked.
here's something about having children that rewires your emotions. Suddenly, from nowhere, I'm permanently on the verge of blubbing. God knows I can't watch Bambi anymore (not that I did on a regular basis previously).There have been times when I'd have to leave the room during the The One Show.
I was (just) 20 when she died. Looking back on it all I can see that I was a kid, nothing more. So immature, so tied to the apron strings, so lacking in any meaningful life experience. My parents had managed to shield me from the worst of what life had to offer, which, I think, is a big part of your role, as a parent.
OK, to the untrained eye, it may appear that all we need do is put up a post about, oh, I don't know... baked beans, every now and then, and our followers will lap it up, maintaining our status as internet superstars.
Essentially any time spent reading with a baby should be viewed like watching an episode of<em> The Only Way Is Essex</em> - nothing sensible, clever or barely coherent is going to happen. All you'll get is incoherent babbling and the overriding wish for the experience to be over (very) quickly.
Yet, as the euphoria fades and the reality of day to day life with children settles, it's likely that you've had some concerns about your body. Perhaps you've noticed that it's changed a little of late? Maybe you're not the athlete you once were? Have you discovered hair in places you never dreamed of?
I'd been watching, with growing horror, as one little boy - at least 6 months older than Sam - wreaked havoc in the vicinity. This child, who seemed to be part human, part concrete - seriously he was built like the proverbial brick lavatory - was roaming among the (much smaller) other kids with a gleefully sadistic look on his face.
05/10/2017 13:02 BST
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