Diary Of A Bad Dad

Iused to love the sun – even though I have skin that goes from translucent to traffic light red after a few minutes’ exposure. I’d head for the shade, slap on the factor 50 and grab a good book and a cold beer. Ahh, those were the days.

Now I’m a parent I’m praying for a traditional English summer. The stress of keeping Preschooler T and her sidekick Toddlernator the Terrible safe, healthy and happy in a heatwave is considerable. I thought I could just blow up the paddling pool and that’d be it.

But the minute you’ve turned the hose pipe off you realise you’ve just created another health hazard.

Then there’s the constant fear of dehydration (I don’t think you can get dehydrated by not drinking enough beer– Mrs T) and don’t even start me on hat patrol.

I finally cracked and shouted at Preschooler T after she attemped to help her brother beat his personal best for holding his breath underwater. I apologised and she forgave me but admonished me: “When it’s this hot I don’t need that kind of behaviour.’’