My Diary of Triplet Fatherhood

As we walked to pre-school today, I reminded the girls about a couple of things we’d discussed over the weekend.

On Friday, they’d related how a boy had told them that they weren’t allowed to play in the wendy house. From what I could gather they hadn’t paid him much attention and gone ahead and played there anyway (democracy in action!). Nevertheless, I had made sure they understood that it wasn’t up to other children what they could and couldn’t do. Just to be sure they’d remembered, I asked them,

“So… What do we do if another child tells you you can’t do something?”

“Ask a playleader”, they all replied. So far so good.

A little later I asked another question.

“And what should you do if one of your sisters is crying?”

“Run around!”

“Do drawing!”

“Bash her!”

Not quite the answer I was looking for this time. “No,” I said firmly, “you should look after her. You should give her a cuddle.”

Now no-one replied. They all just looked at me in that way, the one that makes me wonder if I might have just spoken in Outer Mongolian. Oh, well. One out of two’s not bad.

When we arrived Jemima immediately shrank into herself, one hand clutched, vice-like to the leg of my jeans, the other at her mouth as she sucked furiously on her thumb while casting suspicious looks at the playleaders and other children. But she thawed as we played with a few toys, the sand and, finally, did some drawing.

Thinking I saw my chance, I gave each of them a kiss goodbye.

As I kissed her, Scarlett just asked, “Will you be back after story time?” and seemed happy when I told her I would. When I kissed Jem, she just shrugged and continued to draw with her free hand (my jeans had finaly been released but the thumb sucking was yet to stop). Evie, however, began to cry, her features collapsing into the very picture of abandonment.

She dropped her pen, threw her little arms out and ran towards me…

…then past me…

…to Jemima.

Evie threw her arms around her sister’s neck as I slipped away towards the door, not wanting to prolong the painful goodbye any longer.

I stood outside the door for a moment, hoping I’d hear her crying stop. Instead I heard Jemima begin to sob, too, so I left before my resolve broke.

I would only be prolonging their upset by going back in, at least that’s what I told myself as I walked back home.

I hope they settle soon. I’m not sure I can stand the guilt much longer.