Children suffer from selective memory loss. I gave my children that diagnosis anyway. Occasionally I feel like a playing board that is continuously replayed.
- Close the door
- Turn off the lamp
- Clean up the chocolate spread
And so I can continue for a while, because my playlist seems infinite every now and then.
The times I mopped the floor of the house and a rare moment, a fraction of a second in my life as a father, can enjoy a clean floor is unique and I cherish.
Because when I have turned around for a while, the floor looks like a farmer's family after harvesting potatoes has decided to take a shorter route through my living room.
- Take off your shoes
Selective hearing (Something I can not do)
I have noticed in recent years that apart from selective memory loss, I can also diagnose a selective hearing.
The times that I have been about to purchase a megaphone are no longer counted on two hands.
When they have to clear their room, I have to shout the lungs out of my body to be able to get through a sound barrier of unwillingness and disinterest.
But when in a corner of the living room, very softly, with my hands in front of my mouth the word 'ice' whisper, a herd of hippos comes running down the stairs where they would become jealous in Jumanji.
Me on the contrary? Suck all the screeching, whining, whining, whining and bleating like an ambitious sponge! I do not have a filter, I do not have a selective hearing. Unfortunately.
But I do love them, the darlings.
They will be back home again, the police cap will be ready again.