The Peterborough Evening Telegraph
NIGEL THORNTON
I’m a bit of a soft touch and the cute, but voracious, hyenas I share my life with know this. They can smell my fear and they ruthlessly pick me off like a wildebeest with a limp.
If they want anything I’m always their first port of call.
When I say anything I mean sweets, cake or one more episode of PJ Masks before bedtime.
At Mrs T’s behest I am trying to say ‘no’ a bit more (or even for the first time).
When Mrs T responds in the negative, they shrug and get on with it but if I say no they unleash their full armoury of toddler tactics – from sad faces and tears to impressions of Bob Cratchit’s poorly son and promises of decades of good behaviour.
I managed to hold out during an epic battle over some marshmallows drawing an incredulous response from T2.
As it dawned on him that for the first time ever dad’s no really did mean no, he fixed me with a withering glare and said: “It’s like someone has stolen you!’’