“Daddy knows everything, even more than the computer…” Zak, aged 6.
The quote above is what I have to deal with on a daily basis. Daddy is the Oracle in our house. He can do no wrong in the eyes of our children.
If one of the kids has a question, they will ask me, because their gut instinct is to utter the word, “Muuummmyyyyy….” at the top of their lungs first, but then whatever answer I give is then verified with Daddy. Because Mummy is an idiot and Daddy is smart…apparently.
For example, the other day when we were in the car, I was asked what was being discussed on the radio. We were listening to Radio 4 and they were talking about the EU Referendum we have looming over us here in the UK. They were discussing the points for and against whether we should stay in the EU or leave.
My eldest then asked, “Why should we leave the EU?” to which I replied, “Well, we aren’t sure if we should poppet, and that is what they are discussing on the radio. They’re trying to help us make a choice by giving us the information (albeit, none of this information was helping me because everyone was arguing like petulant school children about it as usual, but it was something to listen to and gave me something to moan about, I do love a good moan) and then we can make our own minds up”.
I thought that was a good answer, in fact, I’d have given myself a ‘good effort’ star sticker for it had I had one in my posession. I wasn’t making my sons mind up for him, or divulging what I think should happen, I gave an honest and impartial answer. Smug mummy moment – tick! But, for my eldest, that response wasn’t good enough.
“Mummy can’t make her mind up Daddy, she doesn’t know enough about it, what do you think the answer is?” replies my 8 year old.
WTAF?! Is he serious?! I don’t know enough about it?! (He is right actually, I don’t, but still, that’s besides the point!)
Cue Daddy saying pretty much the same as what Mummy has said, but with a few longer words and a bit more in depth information on Politics. He too didn’t give away how he was going to vote, he hasn’t made his mind up yet either, but this didn’t matter to my 8 year old who just listened intently, nodded along, took in what Daddy had said and then sat pondering our exsistence by staring out of the window in the back of the car.
I’m not sure he understood what was said particularly, and I am pretty sure my 8 year old just sat there and imagined a movie idea he had recently come up with where a Zombie apocalypse was taking over the world because of some infected Candyfloss everyone was given to eat (sounds more feasible than Sharknado doesn’t it?!), but Daddy didn’t get ridiculed like Mummy. Or shot down for ‘not knowing enough’. Oh no, it’s just me that suffers that fate.
It’s really starting to annoy me.
I’d like to think myself and my husband make a good team. He is good at Science, Maths, Logical thinking, Drinking Beer and wearing Lycra. Otherwise known as Cycling. I am good at English, Writing, Baking, Dancing, knowing the intro to numerous songs after just 10 seconds of listening to it and knowing what tonic goes with which Gin best. We each have our own talents, and that’s great. We can cover most bases between us. My kids, however, don’t see it that way.
If my kids had their way, I would be sat in the corner of the room with a Dunce Cap on. A complete dumbass. I’m good for knowing where stuff is, I’m good for playing waitress and giving hugs when they’re hurt, but obtaining knowledge…nope. Not silly old mummy.
Another example came yesterday morning…
My middle one was wanting to go to the toilet, so he made his way into the downstairs toilet. Daddy had been in there tinkering with the shower head and a chair was blocking the way.
“Mummy…” said my middle one.
“Yes, Zak…” I replied.
“I can’t get in the toilet because there is a chair in the way. I really need the toilet!!!” he tells me.
“Well, we are lucky and we have another toilet upstairs, so can’t you go up there and use that one?” I say.
“No. I want to go downstairs…” he moans.
“Well, you can’t because you can’t get in there. Just go upstairs!” I reply.
‘No! I want to go downstairs!!!!!” he says, again.
This conversation goes on for a good 2 minutes and involved me getting progressively more annoyed with him for not listening. I was about to loose my shizzle when Oracle Daddy then comes along and gets involved.
“Zak,” Daddy says. “Please can you go and use the upstairs toilet because there is a chair in the way downstairs and you can’t get in there at the moment”.
“Ok Daddy!” says Zak, and he skips off upstairs to do his wee.
In the words of John McEnroe, “You cannot be serious!”
Why was Daddy saying it perfectly accpetable, but mummy saying it completely ridiculous?? I swear they do it on purpose to wind me up and, unfortunately, it’s working.
Gina Ford did not cover this in her poxy book and it definitely wasn’t mentioned at NCT classes.
I think, from now on, I might start playing on my supposed stupidity a little bit more just to have a quieter life. I might just reply with, “I don’t know, you’ll have to ask Daddy” or, “Daddy can answer this better than Mummy” and hopefully I might get some peace and be able to get on with some other stuff (like drinking Gin) whilst my husband is interrupted constantly.
Every cloud and all that…
I’m not sure if my boys are just doting on Daddy “the Dalai Lama” because they’re boys and they love to impress him and see what he has to say, or if they genuinely think I’m a plonker and I couldn’t possibly know the answer to their questions. Time will tell I guess, but I’ll get my dunce hat ready in case…
Do you have this problem with your children too, or is it just a Mummy Knutts affliction?
I’m now off to dig a large hole in the garden…
…I’m making a raised flower bed before you all start reporting me to the police thinking I’m about to bury my know-it-all husband in it 😉
Peace out my fellow Knutters.x