Well, what with babies waking up so early and all it’s probably a good thing I’ve given up drinking but for the very occasional beer. Man… I haven’t slept past 6.30am for longer than I can remember. Strangely, part of that is spending much of last year starting work at 8am! So I was well prepared for the transition. Likewise the oft-whinged-about heart trouble meant that before my operation I rarely slept a full night for about 18months, so exhaustion was pretty much par for the course.

All that said, am a little bit tired.

As I may have mentioned, Sunday is Father-Son Day, when Chef Du Plunge and I head out into the city to get things done. There are often trips to Mitre10, occasional trips to Moore Wilsons, but usually a trip to somewhere for “Dad to find coffee”.

The upside is that I’m very fond of coffee. The other upside is that CDP absolutely despises his pram. I think he sees it lurking in the living room and he seems to bear a deep and abiding suspicion of it. Yes… the evil pram… tool of his arch-enemy… the midday nap.

The truth of the matter is that I want him awake while we’re out and about, and sleeping when he’s supposed to be, which gives me time to get stuff done. Consequently we’ve been using a front-pack to cart the wee man about. It’s a good one that can support a child up to 12kg, and we’ll need every gram of space in it. The other reason he seems to hate the pram is that it’s constricting. CDP is a bit of a free spirit, and doesn’t like being locked into things; car-seats included. Alternately it could be because he’s twice the size of an infant his age – as big as your average 7-month old…

So. No pram. Must use front-pack. But this allows me to wander into a shop as small as Simply Paris on Cuba St, chat to the barista, “Yes yes, extremely cute beby. One short black coffee and the ham/cheese croissant please. Merci”, then stand outside at the “leaner” tables and sip my coffee, whilst also nibbling a pastry.

CDP coos at passersby, and occasionally waves his arms, all in the safety and warmth of “The Elite“, and never complaining about my leaving pastry crumbs on his noggin.

At around 9.40 I wander home, have him changed out of his nappy, and into bed by 10am. Where he cries until he falls asleep.

Pretty cruisy right?

Well, right. It is cruisy. Which is why I wonder about two things. Why in hell you’d live in the suburbs with a small child like CDP. Wandering around the block to amuse a bored baby just makes for a more bored Dad. The other thing is why some people see this as a constraint on their freedom?

It’s a great cliche that guys see fatherhood as “the loss of their freedom”.

But the freedom to do what? Sink booze? Play Wii? Not get action and complain about being single?

Sure a change of lifestyle is necessary when you swap to parenting, but it’s hardly all hard graft. Most blokes I know have had to give up something, but… so what? When you have that little blighter smiling and you in the morning because they’re so damn happy to see you, it’s worth every video game I should have grown out of 10 years ago.

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