My day as a stay-at-home dad

I have long acknowledged that stay-at-home parents have the hardest jobs in the world and, yesterday, I had the opportunity to prove this hypothesis – as if proof were needed. Kate went out for the day to buy Dylan's birthday presents, so I got a taste of what it's like to be a househusband.

Obviously, I'd had Dylan on my own plenty of times and am just as adept at taking care of Xander on a one-to-one basis, but this was the first time I'd had two of the little monkeys to keep out of trouble. I was excited and nervous in equal measure; the first time I had Dylan on my own, I took him to a completely pointless event where I lost his socks and then banged his head on a door frame when I got home. Thankfully, it was a good day and the fact that Dylan ended up smelling of Old Speckled Hen wasn't my fault...

Disclaimer: this isn't how he ended up smelling of a brewery; there was squash in this glass!

To be honest, it was pretty uneventful; knowing full well how sod's law works, I was expecting apocalyptic nappies from both lads at once, epic tantrums and a couple of hefty kicks in the nads at the very least. It was quiet. Almost too quiet. Xander slept for large periods and, apart from a little initial reluctance to drink expressed milk from a bottle – as well as trying to latch on to me for a feed; good luck there, mate – he was a very chilled out baby.

Dylan, meanwhile, was being good – it can be a lottery at times, given the age he's about to reach – and I didn't need to resort to the hypnotic powers of CBeebies and Peppa Pig nearly as much as I thought I would. That said, I was bloody knackered by the time Kate got back. I guess the blue-arsed fly routine that is running backwards and forwards between two children and trying to make sure that everything fitted in with their routines was responsible for this. In spite of this lethargy, it was wonderful to spend a weekday with the boys and I loved every minute of it.

So what of the Old Speckled Hen incident? Well the truth is quite boring and it would've been much funnier if I'd inadvertently poured a pint of it over Dylan's head. Nope, the online grocery shopping delivery was responsible for that – a bottle broke in transit, drenching half the food, including all the things that he finds most attractive and, as he 'helped' me to unpack, he got covered in it. He smelt gorgeous! So a good day all in all. I'll drink to that – well I would have done if the beer had survived...