Chapter 18: Gareth Chancelor, Friday Evening

For dinner on Friday we had a really nice chicken sweet-and-sour with steamed rice. Bonnie had cooked it, with a bit of help from Estelle. I thought I detected a bit of tension in the kitchen when I came home but Bonnie was standing there doing the bulk of the work and Estelle was sitting chopping vegetables and occasionally answering a question from Bonnie like “How do I know if the chicken is cooked enough?” or “How much salt should I put in?”.

I sat there at dinner and thought that the last 24 hours had gone pretty well. Estelle was still off work, but everyone seemed to have slipped into their roles quite smoothly.

I found out later from Jen that there had been a problem before I got home. When they’d started cooking dinner, Estelle had been telling Bonnie what to do and Bonnie had angrily objected. Jen had stepped in and firmly told Estelle to wait until Bonnie asked for help before explaining how to do something rather than assuming Bonnie didn’t know what to do. It turned out that Bonnie knew more than Estelle thought she knew, but Bonnie wasn’t able to do as much on her own as Bonnie had hoped. As a result, Bonnie was grumpy with Estelle for trying to be too bossy at the start, but she was also grumpy with herself because she found herself asking for help from Estelle more than she expected. Hence the tension.

So maybe everything hadn’t gone quite as smoothly as I might have hoped. I reckon we need to expect the occasional bit of friction. One of the messages was to get over some bad habits that both Estelle and I have developed so I suppose that will involve a bit of backsliding from time to time.

After the main course, Bonnie served up bowls of fruit salad from a tin with custard, so that was nice. Once we’d finished eating, we sat around the table and let the food digest a bit.

Bonnie said, “Dad, I want to ask you something.”

“Okay,” I said.

“I was wondering if I could organise a pool party for my class. I was thinking maybe two weeks from now on the Saturday afternoon. It wouldn’t be a birthday party or anything. It would just be to have a fun afternoon. I checked your calendar and you don’t have any bookings for that day.”

“Hmm,” I said. I looked at Estelle, but she looked down at the table and refused to let me catch her eye. Then I wondered if that was a habit I needed to break out of, or if maybe it was a good habit.

“I know I’m supposed to be more assertive and take more of a leadership role in the family,” I said. “But that doesn’t mean I want to turn into a dictator. I want to hear opinions from everyone before I decide.”

I looked around the table. “Jen, what do you think?”

Jen wiggled her eyebrows at Bonnie, then looked at me. “I think it’s a great idea. Bonnie’s been invited to a few class parties over last two or three years but the last one we had here was for her birthday about two years ago. A couple of my friends have life-saving certificates so I should be able to organise supervision of the pool for the afternoon.”

I nodded and looked at Bonnie. “How many girls are in your class?”

Bonnie thought for a moment. “I think there’s 22. We sit in table groups and there are always two groups of 5 and three groups of 4 so that makes 22. Doesn’t it?”

I nodded to Bonnie and turned to Estelle. “What do you think, Estelle?” I asked.

“What sort of food were you thinking of for your party?” she asked, looking at Bonnie.

“I was hoping Dad would do a BBQ, maybe grill up a bunch of sausages. Then we could have sausage sandwiches. We could also do some salads or cut up heaps of fruit.”

Estelle nodded. “We could ask the girls to bring some food with them, salads, fruit platters, or whatever.”

Bonnie nodded. “I could keep a list, so we don’t end up with 22 lots of the same thing.”

“Does anyone foresee any problems with this?” I asked.

They all sat there and looked at each other and then looked at me. Nobody said anything.

“Okay then,” I said. “It sounds like we have a plan.”

Bonnie clapped her hands in excitement and started listing out little jobs that needed to be done like inviting everyone and keeping track of who responded and setting up the pool area and thinking of cool games that they could play in or around the pool and so on.

Gareth Chancelor, Saturday Morning

The alarm jerked me out of deep sleep. I reached over and slapped at the button to silence the alarm. Jen grumbled and turned over.

“Go back to sleep sweetie,” I said. “You can have a lie in. I need to wake up Bonnie and get her to gymnastics.”

I didn’t hear a reply. It took me a few minutes to roll myself up and out of bed. I staggered to the bathroom and had a shower and a shave. Then I dressed and wandered down the hallway to Bonnie’s room. I knocked on the door and was answered with silence, so I let myself in and went over to the bed.

Bonnie was curled up with her head off the pillow and her face tucked under the covers. I pulled them back enough to reveal a tousled head and a pyjama-clad shoulder.

“Hey there, sleepy-head,” I said as I gave her shoulder a shake. “Rise and shine, it’s morning.”

Her eyes flickered open and she rolled over onto her back. Her mouth opened wide in a gaping yawn and her entire body tensed as she stretched out.

“Get out of bed, sunshine,” I said. “It’s Saturday morning, so get yourself ready for some gymnastics fun.”

“Okay, I’m awake,” she said through her yawn.

I slapped the covers round about where her knee should be. “I’ll be in the kitchen. See you soon.”

I left her to get herself ready and went through to the kitchen. I got myself a bowl of cereal and cooked a couple of pieces of toast. Bonnie usually only had a piece of toast and a glass of juice before gymnastics, so I got those ready for her.

Soon enough, we were in the car and headed for the gym. Bonnie was still waking up, so it was quiet in the car. By the time we got there, she was awake enough to blow a kiss at me and then trot ahead of me into the gym.

They have a little seating area for parents to hang around in while their kids are tumbling and bouncing around. The seating area includes a coffee machine so quite a few of us are happy to sit around and gossip and sip coffee.

There’s a couple of mothers in the group who think no man should be allowed anywhere near any collection of little children – particularly if the girls are in leotards or any other form of scanty clothing. Boys do gym as well, they wear bike shorts and tight-fitting shirts. I’m not clear if those two think I’m a danger to the boys as well – they probably do. I reckon we men are all predators in their eyes. Either that or they’re operating half a century behind the times. I entertain myself by wondering how they’ll react when they find out about feminism and the sexual revolution. They glare at me and the other fathers every Saturday morning and watch us like hawks to make sure we don’t molest their precious little princesses or princes or whatever.

I entertain myself by chatting to the men and women who do acknowledge my right to be there – in fact I think most of the women are pleased to see me there and grumble that there should be more fathers here. I think Bonnie likes having me there. Every so often she will get my attention and show me some new trick she can now do – a tumble, or a back-walkover, or a spin on the bar, or whatever. I love to support her, and I love to see her having so much fun.

A couple of Bonnie’s friends often come up to me and say hello when they get out at the end of the session. Sometimes I even get a hug from one or two of them – Britney, in particular, always makes sure she gives me a hug. That causes extra glares from the pair of old busy-bodies so I make sure I enjoy my hugs.

While we were driving home, Bonnie talked about gym for a bit then she said, “Um, Dad, about the party.”

“Yes?”

“I should make sure you know about Sally,” said Bonnie. “She might come. I hope she does but she might not.”

“What should I know about Sally?”

“She can be a bit weird. She’s not good at social things. She’s pretty smart with school stuff but she finds it hard to just hang out and talk to people. She’s been doing better since Mona came and made friends with her. But even still she’s always saying stuff or doing stuff that’s kind of weird. We’re all used to her since she’s been in our class since the beginning, but when people meet her, if they don’t know what to expect, they sometimes think she’s being deliberately rude or something and they get upset.”

“Okay. Can you give me an example of what you’re talking about?”

“Well, one thing is she’s a bit of a neat freak. Everything has to be tidy or lined up in rows or whatever. And if something gets dirty or spilled or whatever, she can’t do anything else until it’s been cleaned up. Mona’s got us teaching her to get used to the idea that some things are s’posed to be messy. She’s trying, but it still upsets her sometimes.”

“Okay, that sounds easy enough to deal with.”

“She’s fine, really. Her parents are way weirder. But they never turn up to these things, so you won’t have to worry about them. Apparently they never hug her, so Mona told us we should all give her a hug each day. That’s 21 hugs she gets each day – sometimes more because sometimes we give her more hugs later in the day.”

When we got home, Bonnie had a second breakfast, and then she recruited Estelle and the two of them started making little card invitations to the party. I was surprised that they didn’t just send out emails. Bonnie said, “We’ll do that too, but these are nice to do as well, don’t you think?”

I put coveralls on and went down to run through all the usual preparations for taking Mabel out for a drive. Then I dressed Mabel up in her wedding outfit. Then I had an early lunch, had a shower and another shave, and changed into my chauffeur uniform. I said goodbye to everyone and took Mabel for her appointment with a bride.

Gareth Chancelor, Saturday Evening

By the time I got home and put Mabel to bed, most of the afternoon was gone. I let myself in through the rec room and went upstairs.

When I got to the living room I stopped and I thought, “Uh-oh, here comes trouble.”

The kid version of Bonnie was standing at the other end of the living room. By that I mean the outfit from Thursday night had made a reappearance, complete with Little Mermaid pyjamas, Tigger the Tiger dangling from one hand and the two little ponytails poking up from each side of her head before dangling down to brush her shoulders.

Kid Bonnie saw me and jumped up and down and squealed, “Daddy’s home. Daddy’s home.”

Then she took off and ran right at me at something close to a sprint. I had mere seconds to brace myself before she took a flying leap and attached herself to my chest like an octopus wrapping itself around its prey. Her legs wrapped around my waist and her arms wrapped around my neck and I got bopped in the ear by a flying Tigger. Her face ended up near my other ear and she laid a wet and sloppy kiss on the top of my jaw. Then she squealed, “I missed you Daddy,” in that very child-like voice of hers.

“I missed you too, honey-bunch,” I said. I patted her back and then looped my arms around and under her to take some of her weight off my neck.

“I missed you the mostest,” said Bonnie in her little kid voice, but this time more quietly. Then she squeezed me with her legs and arms in a type of full body hug. I should remind you that Bonnie is a gymnast and even ten-year-old gymnasts get quite strong. Then she eased the squeeze and went back to just holding me.

In the background, I could see that Jen and Estelle had emerged from their rooms or where-ever they’d been hiding and were watching. Jen had an amused expression on her face. Estelle’s expression was more one of astonishment. Jen sidled up to Estelle and started whispering in her ear. I could only assume Jen was explaining the origin of the outfit and the character that came with it.

In the meantime, Bonnie had laid her head on top of her arm, sighed happily, and tucked a thumb in her mouth. She made no move to let herself down. I patted her bum with the hand that was hooked underneath her.

“Hey kiddo,” I said. “I want to go change out of my chauffeur uniform. Could you pop down so I can do that?”

“Mnnhmmf dehmahummf”, said Bonnie. Or at least, that’s what I think she said. I could be wrong. It may have been, “Mahhnahhumph demmnmumph.”

“Sorry sweetheart, I missed that. Could you say it again without a thumb in your mouth?”

She took out the offending thumb and said, “I’m not letting you go for ever and ever.” Then she gave me another full-body hug and put her thumb back in her mouth.

“Okaaay,” I said.

Now both Estelle and Jen were grinning in the background.

I patted her bum again with one hand, then patted the other hand which happened to be against her ribs. That gave me inspiration, so I started singing:

Come, they told me, pa rum pum pum pum,
A newborn king to see, pa rum pum pum pum,

Each beat of the song was accompanied by a pat to either bum or ribs. Bonnie giggled and then joined in, her little voice a couple of octaves higher than mine:

Our finest gifts we bring, pa rum pum pum pum,
To lay before the king, pa rum pum pum pum,
Rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum.

For the last round of rum pum pums, Bonnie stopped singing the words and just held a single note.

If you’ve ever tried to hold a note while someone is drumming on your ribs or back, you’ll know the effect that produces. If you haven’t, try it now, I’m sure you’ll end up laughing. If you don’t end up laughing, it means you’ve lost touch with your inner child and shame on you for that. Being in touch with your inner child is a definite survival mechanism in this day and age.

Bonnie certainly knew the effect that singing a single note while I drummed on her ribs would have, so she did that and dissolved into giggles at the end of it.

I was on a roll now, so I started dancing around the room, spinning Bonnie around, singing the next verse and drumming away on her body. Estelle and Jen watched and sang along. Bonnie was too busy giggling to sing.

I ended up in front of Estelle and Jen. Then I bowed to them with a little flourish, which was made more difficult with my encumbrance firmly attached. I received the applause that I deserved. Then I proceeded to dance and jiggle my way down the hallway to the main bedroom. It took a little bit of manoeuvring to open the door, get through it and close the door after me, but I was up to the task.

Then I backed Bonnie against a wall and pressed. That allowed me to free my arms and squish Bonnie at the same time. She smacked my back and said, “Don’t be a poopy-head.”

I eased up on the squishing a bit because I have no desire to be labelled a poopy-head. By the way, poopie-head is a word I haven’t heard for at least a couple of years. Since it used to almost always be aimed at me, I hadn’t missed it when it disappeared from the vocabulary of the young miss. Now it had suddenly made a reappearance, it made me feel quite nostalgic.

I still had the issue of wanting to change out of my uniform, though. I squiggled my hands between her chest and mine, which may have accidentally tickled her but definitely not in a poopy-headed way, and undid the buttons on my jacket. Once the jacket was undone, it took a bit of coordinated wriggling from the two of us to get the jacket off without Bonnie ever letting go of me. It involved a bit of giggling from both of us as well, but we got the job done.

Once the jacket was off, I managed to return it to its hanger without too much difficulty. Then came the harder job of the button-up shirt.

Bonnie loosened her arms from around my neck and leaned back, using the tight grip of her legs around my waist to support herself. Then she undid the shirt buttons for me, which necessitated me holding Tigger for her. Then she pulled and tugged as she tried to get the shirt up from where it was tucked into my trousers but it was pinned in place by her legs. Eventually she had to squirm around me into a piggy-back position so that she could reach around and get the front part of the shirt loose. Then she squirmed around to the front again, this time with her legs under the shirt. Then she carefully pushed and pulled the shirt down and off my arms. The whole procedure was accompanied by a whole lot of giggling, not to mention a few puzzled expressions while she worked out how to do each step without letting go of me.

In case you haven’t figured it out yet, that was the game. She was never letting go of me, not for ever and ever. And one of us needed to be holding Tigger, it didn’t seem to matter who.

I should also mention that I may have seen 4 eyes peeking through the gap in the door while that was happening. I can’t imagine who those eyes might have been attached to. But they did seem to be getting a great deal of amusement from what the two of us were up to.

With Bonnie clinging to my now bare chest I dropped the shirt into the clothes hamper. Then I stepped over to my chest of drawers and pulled out a clean t-shirt. We had to work together to get that on. Mostly I let Bonnie do it. She’s never dressed me before and she’s certainly never done it while gripping my waist with her legs. The different expressions she got on her face were too cute for words. Getting my head through the head-hole was the easy part. Figuring out which arm had to go through which arm-hole and then arranging things so that I could get that arm through was much harder. Then getting the shirt down past my waist when her legs were in the way, that was entertainingly hard. She ended up climbing up me like I was a rope so that her legs were wrapped around my ribs and over the shirt. Then she allowed herself to slide down again and magically the shirt was in place.