So here’s a little story from last Monday: I’m a fan of American Football and was delighted when I heard that Channel 4 (UK) would be showing one live game every weekend. There’s no Sky Sports in our house. The downside to this game being on terrestrial TV is that it doesn’t kick off until 1.30am on Sunday night/Monday morning. After trying to stay up and watch it two weeks ago, my smarter half wondered why I didn’t just record the game and watch it at my leisure the following day. It’s not as if I’d have to avoid Irish radio to keep the results secret, is it?!

So, I was doing just that on Monday morning, around 11am. Hazel was playing with some toys in the sitting room and I was sitting in the kitchen (where the DVD recorder is) watching my recorded game. Next thing I know, the little lady toddles into the kitchen carrying the box for Finding Nemo in her left hand and the disc from said box in her right.

“We watch Nee-no?” she asked.

“No, it’s daddy’s turn with the telly” I said.

She then proceeded to walk past me, over to the TV stand, bent down, hit the ‘Open/Close’ button on the DVD recorder, took out my disc and put in Nee-no! She didn’t actually manage to put the disc in flat, so the door wouldn’t close. At this, I picked my jaw up off the floor and went over to help her!

I tell you this as a kind of parable.  As Hazel has grown up, we’ve been pretty sure we were aware of what stage of development she was in. We had all the books. We knew what to expect…

However, she’s 26 months old now and is capable of making us realise that we are no longer on top of everything.  She’s now taken the lead and we just have to try and keep up.

About three weeks back, Ev announced that Mags (one of her good friends) and her son Eamon (possibly Hazel’s best friend) would be calling in for a visit. Hazel was in a state of excitement at the news – basically she went a bit hyper. Alas, 40 minutes later, when they still hadn’t arrived she was so sad as to be in danger of becoming a depressive.  Thankfully, before the tears arrived Mags and Eamon did and an enjoyable visit was had by all.

Later on, when Hazel was in bed, Ev and I sat down and discussed what we’d seen. Wondering how we hadn’t noticed it before, we realised that Hazel needed company of her own age. Hanging around with Daddy, all day, every day, wasn’t going to be good enough any more.

Since then, the pattern of our lives has changed completely.  Hazel now goes to crèche two mornings each week. It’s a nice one, in a small village on Ev’s route to work so it’s quite handy.  Hazel has taken to this like the proverbial duck to water and spends the other days of the week wondering when she’ll next get to see her “new friends”.

I’ve also started bringing her to Parent-and-Toddler groups.  I’ve found two in the vicinity that meet on mornings she’s not at crèche and we’ve checked them out.  I was the only guy at both of them. I’ve been thoroughly slagged off about this on Facebook and in the real world! “How many phone numbers did you get?” one wit asked.  There is a flip-side to being surrounded by such overwhelming femininity. Not enough in-depth discussion on the previous weekend’s sport for one thing.

Still, I’m doing this for Hazel’s sake so let’s see how it goes.

Besides, I do get to drink copious amounts of tea.