Thanks for a Lovely Day, Daddy?!

Toddlers will humble you when you least expect it.  

We started the day with Eli’s 27-month health check at our local community health clinic.

One of those very normal parenting appointments that somehow still requires the logistical planning of a small military operation:snacks,water bottle,shoes,spare clothes,toys,and mentally preparing yourself to answer questions while your toddler attempts to lick a chair.

Afterwards, we went to the play centre.

And I enjoyed it.

Watching Eli excitedly disappear into tunnels and reappear shouting “Mummy, come!”, hearing his laugh echo through the soft play and seeing how genuinely happy he was — it’s one of those strange parts of parenthood where you are simultaneously having fun and becoming progressively more exhausted.

At one point, I also went down the giant red slides twice despite the very large sign that clearly said:NO ADULTS ALLOWED.

But Eli wanted me to go with him and apparently rules become slightly flexible when you’re carrying snacks and maternal guilt.

He also became completely obsessed with the bumpy climbing steps and laughed hysterically every single time he bounced down them.

Naturally, he then insisted I do it too.

So there I was, a fully grown woman in a soft play centre, repeatedly bouncing down padded toddler obstacles while being aggressively cheered on by a two-year-old.

And honestly? It was really fun.

There was also some extremely serious messy play involving play dough cutters, mini rolling pins which Eli declared he was using to "roll chapatis", tiny plastic tools and the kind of concentration toddlers usually reserve for activities that create maximum mess.

He also attempted to independently board Thomas the Tank Engine multiple times with the confidence of a commuter catching the 7:42 to Manchester.

Afterwards, we recovered with tiny matching coffees like two exhausted colleagues debriefing after a difficult shift.

By the end, both of us were slightly overstimulated.

When we got back home in the afternoon, I realised I had forgotten my keys and locked us out of the house.

In my defence, the keys were in a different handbag than my usual, which, in the mental state of a tired human, may as well have meant they had vanished into another dimension.

Thankfully the back gate was open, so Eli was safely playing in the garden while I briefly convinced myself I could solve the situation independently by climbing through the tiny bathroom window.

I could not.

In my defence again, my spatial awareness isn’t always the best and I may have slightly underestimated the situation involving my upper body and the size of the window opening.

So there I was, partially wedged in my own bathroom window, questioning every decision that had brought me to this moment, while my toddler played with his screw driver nearby outside like this was a perfectly normal afternoon activity.

In the end, Daddy had to drive back from work to rescue us and let us back inside, which honestly may explain why Eli felt especially grateful towards him by bedtime.

Then came cooking for Eli, tidying up,more entertaining, bath time and the slow descent into bedtime.

By the end of the day, I was tired in that very specific parenting way where your body feels heavy but your brain is still running through tomorrow’s mental checklist.

So as we all snuggled together in bed that night, I smiled at Eli and said:“Thanks for a lovely day, Eli.”

Without missing a beat, he replied:“Thank you for a lovely day, Daddy.”

Daddy. Yes he had technically performed the heroic rescue mission of the day but had mostly been in an office all day!

Daddy laughed a bit too hard, but I forgave him and my son immediately because I had a good day and it didn't matter that my son gave his father all the credit.

Motherhood is such a humbling experience sometimes.

You can spend an entire day doing invisible little acts of care that no one notices:packing snacks,wiping mucky hands,answering questions,making meals,carrying the emotional rhythm of the day.

And then one dramatic act of unlocking the front door completely steals the spotlight.

But maybe that’s the point.

Children don’t measure love through effort tallies or productivity.They just love freely, emotionally and often very irrationally.