The stay-at-home dad: Routines and rotations
One spoon to rule them all.
My kids jockey for supremacy in strange ways. The weirdest involves a dinged-up old spoon with a quaint flower pattern on the handle. At mealtime, all four kids want this particular utensil, even for non-spoon foods like pizza or toast. The arguments got so heated, my wife and I had to implement a set schedule for its use.
It’s not a particularly nice spoon. I don’t know for sure where it came from, but if I had to guess, we got it in a bag of random used silverware we bought at Goodwill back in college 15 years ago.
The spoon-holder also gets the first choice of seat at the table on their designated day. Everyone has the same favorite chair in the same favorite location. At least my wife had the good sense to attach a chore to the child’s “spoon day.” In addition to their own busing duties, the spoon-holder must also put the 3-year-old’s dishware in the sink after mealtime (he can’t quite reach the sink without throwing).
The kids rotate through many other activities too. Mom goes on a lunchtime walk with one kid each day. One kid gets to make the evening bubbly juice (vitamins) on their day, but another kid gets to lick the spoon. They rotate Playstation controllers too… this one I don’t understand. All the controllers are black except for one blue one, but it’s not the blue one that requires the rotation. Madness.
As it is for most families, our household functions best on rotations and routines. The kids have before-school and before-dinner checklists, and bedtime flies off the rails if anyone deviates from a very specific sequence of events.
The bedtime routine led me into an unlikely second career as a third-rate song-and-dance man. I perform two shows a night, seven days a week. In the boy’s room, after storytime (a whole other type of performance) I begin my 3-year-old’s precisely curated set list:
I open with the chorus from “Paw Patrol.”
“Jingle Bells, Batman Smells.” This includes our made up second-verse that goes: “Jingle Bells, Batman took a shower, Robin cracked his egg. The Batmobile got 5 billion brand new wheels, and the Joker went to jail… or the Phantom Zone.” Yes, I’m aware it isn’t as catchy as verse 1.
Chorus to “You’ve Got a Friend in Me,” sometimes performed as either his Buzz Lightyear or Woody stuffed doll or both.
“Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.”
“I Love You, You Love Me” from “Barney,” though he’s never seen Barney (he has, however, watched both seasons of “Jurassic World” Camp Cretaceous,” because we’re cool).
Then it’s over to my 7-year-old, who only requires a soft, tender version of:
“You Are My Sunshine.”
But before I leave the room, it’s an encore for the 3-year-old!
“Star Light, Star Bright”
Then a brief, “See You in the Morning, See You in the Evening, See You at Suppertime.”
Before I can even catch my breath, it’s onto the girls room for Performance #2. This one has less singing but requires much more physical effort.
A simple rendition of “See You in the Morning, See You in the…” blah, blah, blah.
I pretend to say goodnight, walk to the door then turn back for a cheesy, Old-Timey dance.
A rendition of “Sugar in the Morning,” a song from the McGuire Sisters that dates back to my grandparents. I’m required to swing my 5-year-old daughter around in my arms while dancing to this snappy little ditty. Maybe I’m assuming things, but I don’t think Grandpa Bob did this for my dad.
The Vaudeville routine continues as my daughters give me silly instructions that I mime in exaggerated fashion. Ex. “Don’t forget to vacuum your windows.” Don’t forget to take 100 cold showers before you go to bed.”
The climax is truly bizarre. The last instruction is “Don’t forget to milk that mustache.” I don’t know where this came from, but I pretend to tug on my beard and mustache like a cow, then my 5-year-old pretend -“tosses me a cold one,” which to her means a glass of milk, and then I pretend to drink that glass of milk. Then she pretends to throw several pretend glasses of cold milk, all of which I pretend to drink.
So there you have it. My life is essentially spoon management and bad theatre, seven days a week. I’ve had worse jobs.
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Tyler Wilson is a freelance writer and stay-at-home dad to four children, ages 3-9. He is tired. Looking to hire a mime for birthday parties or corporate events? Contact twilson@cdapress.com.