'DADDY – it’s always crunchy cornflakes. Can we no have wumfing else!?'
When yer three year auld laddie gies ye pelters first thing, it's hard tae stomach.
His sister's mair diplomatic. But when her wee broon eyes dart fae me doon tae her flakes, I ken she agrees. The Michelin Man’s booncin richt past ma gaff wi his stars stuffed in his sash.
The wife usually works backshift, then studies for her degree once she's hame. So mornin's are ma domain, an (when the breakfast's better) I love watchin the bairns scran up. There's something special aboot seein yer ain wee humans chewin intently as thoughts flicker their heids. Navigatin life at a million mile an hour, withoot a care in the world.
The school run's really a quick dauner. 15 minutes along the road while I grip their wee hauns jist tight enough an nae mair. Ma stroll hame past the hooses is a decompression chamber. But by the time I flick ma laptop on, I'm still feelin shoogly.
I'm a freelance copywriter. So I write words tae help folk sell stuff. Jeezo, what a laugh sayin that oot loud. I cannae even sell masel these days. I've had a guid run for a couple o years, ken? But noo the bahookie's fell sae far oot ma business I find masel spraffin aboot it in the past tense.
It wouldnae be the end o the world if I had a Plan B for the future, like. I mind pickin oot jobs when I was young - like shufflin they cairds the bairns have. A fireman? An astronaut? A butcher? A baker? What will I be? At 47, ‘que sera, sera’ sends a richt shiver.
Money. Ma bank app screams OPEN an moths fly through the cobwebs. Ma business email's spam-jacked instead o enquiry-packed. Walk ootside tae stretch ma legs. I could honestly greet.
I’m takin a deep breath when ma wife shouts me in. 'Laptop pingin' she says, 'mi gone bathe.'
I blawi oot a ‘pfft’ as I click the screen back tae life. But here, there’s somethin else instead o the usual. 'Some work if you fancy it?' – aye, ye can say that again. Open it fast as a bell-sprung Pavolv’s dug an two corporate pitch decks never sounded sae miraculous.
Then ye'll no believe what happened next. Cos by the time I read that ane, another was waitin. 'QUOTE' it says. Can ye write aboot the menopause? Withoot a moment’s hesitation, I belt oot ‘tootin sure I can’. Then, at the back o that ane, 'Women in Construction' are wavin hello an I can practically feel the hard hat on ma heid as I read aw aboot what they’re efter.
'Thank God' I say. Then I put ma hauns thegether an actually dae thank God. When I tot it aw up, it'll cover the mortgage an bills for a month or mair. Fae big fat zero tae three job hero in the space o a few minutes.
When ma wife comes doon the stair, the air’s different.
'Somethin a burn?' she says.
'I made ye pancakes, actually' I laugh.
'Pancakes!?’ she snaps Jamaican, ‘Backside! What got into you?’