Richard iRvine It looks like chaos but there’s a strict plan Of attack to get day started
DOUBLE TROUBLE FOR A FIRST TIME DAD OF TWINS “Just put your shoes on,” Victoria shouted at Emma, who was too busy hitting Thomas, while he called her a “baby poo poo”.
The remnants of soggy Weetabix lay on the floor, toothpaste was smeared across the kitchen table and discarded pyjamas had been stuffed into a vase.
It looked like chaos, but there was a definite structure to school mornings, albeit one which was harder work than I ever thought it might be.
We just had to stick to the plan, make it through and soon they’ll be somebody else’s responsibility. Over the years, we’ve adopted roles in the house – mainly the jobs the other doesn’t want to do. So my first task in the morning is to the traditionally masculine role of emptying the kitchen bin. It’s always stretched to maximum capacity with a gravity-defying pile of debris resting far above the bin liner or even nestling next to the bin, saying, “we won’t fit, but we’re close, so it’s your responsibility to dispose of us”.
Meanwhile, Victoria is selecting clothes and pleading with the twins to get ready for school.
This is a role I’ve taken on with limited success, due to my inability to select the correct pants, socks, iron things properly or give them smart clothes when they should be in scruffy
play ones. And the twins actively exploit my naivety, by demanding jumpers with unicorns or spacemen on, which are always inappropriate and impossible to find.
While Victoria is fighting with Emma to brush her hair and generally beautify the pair of them, I’m on dishwasher duty; a role I’ve really made my own, to the point I bristle with irritation if anyone stacks it incorrectly.
Then it’s my turn to step into the fray with toothbrushes to cajole them into brushing their teeth. Some mornings, they put up little resistance, whereas others they run and hide under the kitchen table.
At this point, we’re also assembling bags, shoes and edging them towards the door with only the walk to school to complete.
The five-minute stroll inevitably involves near death experiences with cars, subsequent road safety lectures and the occasional dog poo.
Finally, it’s time to wave them goodbye, and I can relax with some gentle, paid employment, in what has now become the easiest part of my day.