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Friday, October 26, 2012

Father of the Year

You might recall a week ago I mentioned how I was feeling a bit of a failure as a parent as my son made the class newsletter because, despite completing his homework every week, he hasn't handed any in all term.

Well, hot on the heals of this it seems young Master7 was called up on parade. How do I know? Because another parent told me when she came into the bank. According to this parent, Master7 was pretty chuffed with himself and grinning all the way.

"He was?" I said stupidly.

"Well he would be. He won $1," she told me.

"He did?"

"To spend at tuckshop."

"Really? That's great." I better get on with my Father of the Year acceptance speach. This year it's in the bag.

"And then," this lady went on, "as he walked back to his spot, he poked his tongue out at his sister." In front of the whole school. full...of pride.

I'm starting to think I don't talk enough to my boy. I thought back to the conversations we'd had the last week and while I'm fairly certain Pokemon, Skylanders and fart jokes featured heavily, I'm equally certain there was no mention of parades or tuckshop.

As soon as the woman left I picked up the phone, keen to find out why I'm learning this stuff about my kids from people at work. When Tracey answered I asked her why she hadn't told me Master7 had been called up on parade this week.

"He has?"

"And he won $1 tuckshop money!" I added, my tone probably more suited to saying he'd been called up for setting fire to the library.

"Oh that's nice," said Tracey. "What for?"

When was the last time the winner of Father of the Year was married to the winner of Mother of the Year?

That night we cornered our little man in his bedroom.

"Why haven't you told us you won tuckshop money for something?" I asked him. He grinned up at us like we'd found out his dirty little secret. "And why did you win it?"

"For being good," he told us. "When you're good your name goes into a draw."

"And you won tuckshop money!" I said. "How exciting. You'll be able to buy a drink at lunchtime."

"I usually just buy iceblocks," said Master7.

"You've won this before?"

"Three times this year and twice last year."

I think we'll keep it simple. "My fellow Australians, thank you for bestowing on Tracey and myself the much coveted title of Parents of the Year..." Yeah, that'll work.

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Anonymous said...

Ha ha ha that's gold! Miss 6 gets awards for doing well at Highland Dancing (done on Tuesday's at school while she's at after school care). We usually find out on Friday when we completely unpack her bag for the weekend :) I think we might win the runner up prize :D

Reservoir Dad said...

That's the meaning of community right there - finding out about your kids' achievements through others.

About Me

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Bruce Devereaux is one of the nicest people he knows. When not at work he enjoys reading, writing, hiding from his children and not changing nappies.


His career, and if we used the term any more loosely an e might fall out, has included a gardener, a personal lender, a console operator, a stop/go man (not as big a bludge as you might think but great if you’re into sunburn, abuse and varicose veins), a cleaner of banks and pubs and, for a very brief period, a door to door salesman (until the last door he knocked on was answered by a very scary woman with tremendously hairy legs).


Bruce Devereaux currently works as a forty-five-year-old award winning customer service officer (glass statuette available upon request) for the Bank of Queensland and as a very casual employee for Corrective Services. He likes to believe he excels at both but then he has always been prone to exaggeration.


His favourite colour is green, with a picture of Dame Nellie Melba on one side and General Sir John Monash on the other. His favourite flower is self-raising.

 If you see him around town, call his wife immediately - he's probably snuck out and left her alone with all the kids.


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