The home stretch

Well here we are Sunday afternoon, Mrsdave only a few hours away from arriving home and as yet no hospitalisations to report. Today has been a little busier than the last two as realisation set in that it may take a little more than having two breathing children to prove my parenting prowess to my loving wife. I grabbed the yellow pages in order to find a cleaner who would come at short notice, but all I got were answering machines telling me to call back on Monday. It was time to think outside the square if I wanted the house looking like it had been cared for by a competent adult. I turned to the section for escort services and located an ad that promised to fulfil any fantasy, dialled the number and found ‘Sparkle’ at my door in under half an hour.

Sparkle got right down to business, “What’s your fantasy?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I want a clean house” I replied, trying to hide the fact that I was completely new to these types of interactions.

“OK then, I have a French maid outfit in the car, I’ll just..”

“I don’t think you understand,” I interrupted “I don’t care what you wear, this house is a bomb site and I want you to clean it up”. The look on Sparkle’s face told me that this wasn’t the type of gig that she expected, but once the price was negotiated she was happy to get to work.

This left me with time to teach Buster Boy some of the finer points of Grand Theft Auto 4. He’s picked up the driving OK, but he really struggles to get executions right. Our foray in Liberty City had to be discontinued when there was a knock at the door. At our doorstep was Carol, a child welfare officer from DOCS. Apparently one of the neighbours didn’t think that chaining the Troll Princess to the dog’s kennel was an effective form of discipline for a toddler. I assured Carol that she’d obviously been the victim of a prank call and she seemed to believe me right up until the point that she noticed Sparkle, in high heels, a mini skirt and bustiere, bending over to use the dustpan.

Carol went into a frenzy, carrying on about rights of the children and nonsense like that and served me with a notice that said I need to attend a parenting course in the next month or risk regular DOCS visits. I’m still not sure whether she was more upset about there being a hooker in the house while the kids were playing, or the fact that I seemed incapable of basic domestic duties.

Sparkle was pretty frazzled after Carol’s outburst and wanted to leave. I told her that she’d breached her contract and I wasn’t going to pay full rate. More negotiations ensued until we agreed on a new price and I was left with a house, at least clean if not entirely tidy. It’s probably best that way as it’s less likely to arouse suspicion in Mrsdave.

By now the kids were overdue for lunch, so we walked over to Bunnings and got something to eat from the sausage sizzle. The walk home was a bit slow as each of kids were asking to be carried, but I think that making them cover the distance is character building.

I think that the weekend has been a success, and I think I deserve extra credit for giving the children a whole new appreciation for their mother. Parenting is easy.

6 thoughts on “The home stretch

  1. Hahahahahaaaaa. A lovely window onto your domestic life, DfA. I have never fully appreciated the uses of chilli as a behavioural modifier, and look forward to trialling its application in my home life in the future.

  2. Miss Andrea, I have a lot of trouble believing that you have never needed to use unconventional punishment as a behaviour modification technique. I do, however, accept that a woman of your character would not lie, so I’m going to guess that you haven’t tried chilli simply because you haven’t finished off that bottle of Tobasco sauce yet.

  3. Yes… You never know when these little tidbits of information could be useful in an affidavit…

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