Every day at 4.45pm Eli starts to fuss. This is because my Other Half arrives home at 5.45pm.
When my Other Half was working closer to home and arriving back at 5.30pm, the clinging to my feet, not wanting to play with any toys unless it involved throwing them across the room and high pitched whining sound would start at 4.30pm.
Last night due to a prison lockdown my Other Half was two hours late home. Eli cried for “da-da-daddy” the whole time even through his dinner.
I’ve often wondered whether there is some kind of Daddy Sensor embedded in my children as I can remember Meg being the same when she was small.
Or maybe it’s simpler than that, perhaps they are just picking up on my ‘nearly time for a break’ vibes. I know I’m usually more short-tempered the closer to Daddy time it gets. Kind of like when you need the toilet. You can manage to hold on for an entire car journey possibly even hours long but the minute you pull up outside your house you HAVE to go, IMMEDIATELY.
|Shouting for Daddy – now that’s a cross face!|
When it gets to almost that time when Daddy gets home just you isn’t enough they need Daddy and they need him NOW.
It’s worse now Eli can crawl as he will literally go and sit by the front door and shout for Daddy. For an hour. Or sometimes, if he’s feeling particularly mean he will come and sit by the kitchen safety gate as I’m making the dinner and shake it and shout “daddy daddy daddy” just to let it really sink in that I’m not the parent he wants.
|Daddy where are you!?!|
I shouldn’t take it personally I know. Or compare it to when I pick Eli up from nursery and he crawls away from me (usually into a corner of the room) shouting “no no no.” The staff all think it’s hilarious when I stand there trying to coax my own son into leaving with me. Charming.
We do spend a lot of time together so I see his point, I’d get pretty bored too. There’s only so much time you can sit and look at each other before you want a change of scenery, even with a crazy almost three year old thrown into the mix.
And, now that Meg is older she’s not so bothered about it. Don’t get me wrong. As soon as we hear Daddy’s car pull onto the drive she races to the front door and has to be the one who opens it (today Daddy forgot and he had to go back out, knock on the door and be admitted by Meg, silly Daddy!) but at least we don’t have the hour long whinging.
So, that’s something to look forward to.
And maybe, one day, the situation will be reversed and E will cry for me. Hurray!!
(Secretly I’m hoping I’m not the only one with children like this otherwise that would be very sad!!)