Parenting - The Game!

Parenting books don’t prepare you for real life so I’ve designed a game for parents-to-be:

LEVEL 1

Your baby is teething and refusing to nap. You’re hungover and there’s no coffee in the house. To complete this level you must make it through to midday without sobbing.

LEVEL 2

On the back of two hours broken sleep you discover that your baby has the shits. To move to the next level you must reach teatime without hitting the gin.

LEVEL 3

Your baby has puked so much you’re forced to change your own clothes three times in the space of an hour. You have nothing clean so must squeeze into jeans that don’t fit anymore and throw a jumper on that’s covered in more unidentified stains than a tramp’s undercrackers. As you walk through the hall you catch the reflection of a demented crack addict in the mirror. Your goal is to leave the house with your self-esteem intact.

LEVEL 4

You’re on the brink of physical and mental exhaustion. To complete the level you must mingle with the general public and attempt to construct viable sentences without sounding like you’ve lost your mind and developed your own dialect.

LEVEL 5

Congratulations, you now have twins! Your goal is to leave the house on time.

I'm a stand up comic and new dad to twins. Click here to follow my blog on Facebook.

Comments

Kevin Nguyen said…

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4 February 2016 at 05:35

The Time I Smeared Shit on the Duvet

My wife and I developed our parenting systems through trial and error. One of the earliest rules we’d introduced was that if it was after 5am and one of the babies became unsettled, we wouldn’t waste our time trying to get them back down in their cot - we’d just bring them in with us. After a nice cuddle in our bed, they’d normally settle back down, barring the occasional impromptu fanny gouge or affable bollock kick. (Babies are the most violent sleepers on the planet, easily capable of committing GBH in the middle of reaching for their dummy.) Our twins were six months old. I was fast asleep. At least, the deepest sleep you can get once your kids arrive. My pre-kids sleep used to be the nocturnal equivalent of deep sea diving. Nowadays I’m lucky if I can submerge my toes in a puddle. Early on, my sleep was lighter than a Ryvita biscuit who’d been having it off with a helium canister they’d met on Tinder. Everything woke me up. Some nights I’d just lie there, bewi...

The Time I Screamed at my Kids

Before my kids arrived I swore I’d never shout at them. But choosing how to approach parenthood before your kids are born is like a caterpillar deciding what kind of butterfly they’re gonna be while they’re still building the cocoon. ‘I’ll still do loads of charity work, of course. And I’ll be REALLY nice to moths too, even though they’ll probably hate me because I’ll be so bloody gorgeous.’ Theory and reality are like sugar and shit. I’ve raised my voice to my kids more times than I can count. Often just to shout ‘STOP SHOUTING!’ which I’m aware doesn’t set a great example. ‘You should NEVER shout at your kids.’ And that’s fine. In theory. Because everything’s fine in theory. The Slimfast diet is a piece of piss until day two when you’ve had three hours sleep and someone offers you a Wagon Wheel. Of course, I never WANT to shout at them. I love them more than words can describe. But those you love are also the ones blessed with the innate ability to boil your piss q...

The Time I Embarrassed Myself on a Bouncy Castle

Kids love bouncy castles. And why not? They’re bouncy and unpredictable, like Kanye West on a pogo stick. But just like Calpol, crayons and eating your own bogeys, the allure of the bouncy castle tends to dissipate as we reach adulthood. I’m not someone who lists ‘castle bouncing’ as a hobby these days. My kids, on the other hand, love a good bouncy castle. The bouncier the better. The only thing they love more than a GOOD bouncy castle is a REALLY BAD bouncy castle. Especially those ones that haven’t undergone a decent risk assessment since mullets were cool. In fact, the more dubious the health and safety standards appear to a casual bystander, the more keen my kids are to dive on headfirst and find the hazards. So. We’re at a farm park. We’re enjoying the standard parental farm park experience - the kids are interested in everything EXCEPT the very farm animals that we just paid a whopping £37.50 to visit. (BTW - My son’s favourite animal at Chester Zoo was ...

Sam Avery

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