My Diary of Triplet Fatherhood

There’s an enormous sandpit in the park near our house, big enough to contain a slide, a see-saw and various other toys to climb on or pour sand through. And it also contains a play house.

My girls have always loved the big, plastic playhouse we bought for them when they were little. FOr a long time it was set up in the living room, and even now it’s in the garden, they still haven’t tired of playing peekaboo out of the windows, busying themselves at the sink and cooker, and opening and closing the door (sometimes even without another sister on her way through it). So, I guess it was only natural that all three would gravitate towards the sand pit’s playhouse when I’d finally managed to herd them all there from the car (no mean feat nowadays, I assure you – but that’s for another post).

Anyway, when we got there, two much older boys were already in residence had, they soon made clear, no intetnion of sharing. They looked like brothers and must have been at least four or five years old.

“We don’t want you in here,” one announced as Jemima walked in through the door.

“No,” the other agreed, And they went back to their game of piling sand on the table as if the matter was now settled.

Jemima just stood and watched them.

Then Scarlett wandered in, and, ignoring the boys, bent and began filling her bucket with sand before emptying it in a pile on the floor.

“I said,” the first by petulantly announced, “that we don’t want you here.” And, to mark his point, he strode over and stamped on Scarlett’s pile of sand.

Scarlett just watched as he went back to the table and his brother.

A short while passed, in which I wondered if I was going to have to intervene, and the two boys began to look a little nervous. Jem and Tettie were still watching them, little faces impassive and perhaps a little quizzical. But the standoff seemed steady enough, no one had been anything but a little rude and I always feel a little cautious at places like this, generally being the only dad, surrounded by mums who I can see watching me from where they sit on the benches at the play park’s edge. I decided I’d wait and see if things escalated.

Then Evie arrived. She carried a bucket, too. And a spade. And went straight up to the table where she put them to use taking the very sand the boys were piling up themselves.

“No,” said he first boy and put his arms around the sand to stop this little one-year old girl from taking it.

“We don’t want you in here,” the other chimed in. Both stared hard at Evie.

Evie stared back.

Then, Scarlett stepped up beside her, the tension in the playhouse grew palpable, especially when, a moment later, Jem, came to join her sisters. The bigger boys looked worried

Evie cocked her head slightly to one side. The boys began to shuffle in their seats.

Perhaps the first boy did something to draw their attention, I’m not sure, but, as one, all three girls turned to look at him directly, which was when it all grew too much for him. He turned and ran from the playhouse, closely followed by his brother.

Without a word, Evie, Tettie and Jem picked up their buckets, and began playing quietly in the sand.

After watching that exchange, I have a feeling they’ll have little trouble with being bullied when they grow older.