AwesomeDad Takes It Too Far Once Again

Why channeling Kermit nearly injured a five-year-old girl (yes, I'm blaming the frog)

Today a child nearly got badly injured on my watch - and possibly because of my actions. But I don’t think it was completely my fault.

Before I get to it, let’s add some context - last Saturday I was charged with taking my daughter to a birthday party solo. I was feeling fine about it really; it was for one of my friends’ kids so I’d have at least one person to talk to, and they were having good entertainment for the children that we were already familiar with, so it wouldn’t involve me hauling my already knackered carcass onto a bouncy castle or anything too taxing. As far as a one-parent trip went, it was well within the realms of my capability.

My wife left the house about midday to undertake some bridesmaid duties for an upcoming wedding

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. As she left, she also asked me to look in the Tesco just by the party venue for something I’d forgotten to put on the weekly shop.

“No problem,” I said, confidently pushing the front door shut as she drove off.

I’ve got an hour and a half before I even need to think of getting ready, I thought cockily. My daughter was absorbed in watching an hour-long video of a volcano erupting I’d found on YouTube (seriously, don’t ask - it’s better not to ask). A bit of dad-chill time was on the agenda. Lovely.

I blinked, and said hour and a half had passed me by completely. I think I’d spent the time reading some web articles on building up followings on social media, but in reality most of that time probably went down the TikTok wormhole. It was now 1:30pm. The party was at 2:30pm but the venue was half an hour away.

Immediately the trip to Tesco was on hiatus until after the party. Logistically it would have made sense to get it done beforehand, but this was not the first (and nor will it be the last) that my caveman brain will take endless hits of social media content over observing good dad logistics. At least I still had time to get to the party on time.

But of course, events conspired to stop me making it there beyond the ten minute grace period for a fashionable late entrance.

I tripped over the potty and split piss all over the floor. It splashed all over my trousers so I had to quickly change before hauling us and everything we needed out of the door.

Not immediately visible: the Great Lake of Piss that I kicked all over the floor

Everything except the fucking present, of course. By some miracle I remembered at the end of our road, instead of halfway through the thirty minute drive…which my three-year-old daughter napped halfway through. Another post-9pm put-down to look forward to!

The party itself was pretty good. The entertainment kept the little ones engaged so I could sit a reasonable distance back, resting my feet with the odd bit of small talk thrown in.

But the trouble came when the food came out.

So here’s the situation: I was stood behind my daughter whilst she ate her food, my back against a wall. A few seats down was a younger boy, sitting the wrong way on his chair with his legs through the little hole you get on classroom-type chairs. His mum was watching him, but then she had to go and deal with an incident with her other kid. She asks if I’d just stand by the boy to make sure he didn’t tip the chair and fall flat on his face. I was still in eyesight of my daughter, so I agreed.

I stood there for a bit, then the boy indicated he wanted the balloon that was just out of his reach. I pick it, crouch down to give it to him, then he knocks it out of my hand and laughs.

Now, at this stage I should explain something. Unfortunately, I’m a people-pleaser. I’ve come to realise that in recent years its not necessarily something that serves me well, so I’m trying to change. I’m getting better at resisting the urge nowadays.

Except when the opportunity comes to make someone laugh. Damn it, but I’ve always loved the feeling of doing something that makes people laugh. Practically nothing will stand in my way if there’s a chance of a cheap gag that’ll get a good reaction (case in point - when I was in primary school I punched another boy in the face because he blurted the punchline to a joke that I was telling). It’s especially easy with kids - you can just do the same thing over and over and over again and you’ll still get that dopamine hit every time they cackle themselves stupid.

It is in situations like this that I turn into something I call AwesomeDad.

You might notice other AwesomeDads at things like kids’ parties, or at soft play or the park or wherever. They’re the one dad that’s just loving being the centre of a group of children’s attention a bit too much, gleefully exhibiting their excellent child-handling skills with gay abandon for all and wide to observe. When I notice another AwesomeDad, I tend to just roll my eyes, telling myself that I don’t need to pander for the fleeting adulation of children. I’m a grown man; I’m well-adjusted. I don’t need this.

But when the situations arises for me to become one, you can fucking bet I’ll take it.

So I pull an overly-exaggerated expression of shock and outrage, much like the one Kermit the Frog pulls in this video of him trying to do the alphabet with a little girl who keeps fucking it up on purpose.

Channelling such a comic icon as Kermit inevitably brings in the laughs. I pick the balloon up and hold it there again, proudly announcing that this was my special balloon. Then the boy knocks it away again, I make the silly face again and more laughs rain down upon me.

It was at this point that two other girls who were sitting next to him started laughing too. Great, now I had a crowd for my comedy stylings. This is amazing, I thought in my AwesomeDad haze. Look how brilliant I am.

Then it happened. When I turn away to retrieve the balloon for about the ninth time, one of the girls turns around on her chair, her weight tipping it over and sending her clattering to the hard floor. AwesomeDad had taken it too far once again.

As it always does in a time of crisis, the aura of AwesomeDad evaporated immediately. Now I’m just me again, faced with a five year old on the verge of tears, clearly in pain thanks to an accident that wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t being such an attention-whore.

I feel the judging eyes on me from the other mums standing around the food table. What a silly twat, they’d be surely thinking. Hell, I have to admit and I’d be thinking the same if I was one of them. But anything they were thinking was multiplied ten-fold in my head. I was literally asked by another mum to prevent this type of incident happening to their child, then I started acting the goat and caused the exact same thing to happen to another person’s little girl.

The dad of the girl came over a few moments later, gave her a hug and consoled her before any true meltdown befell us.

“Is she ok?” I say meekly, my face hot with shame.

“Yeah, she’ll be fine.” She smiled up through glassy eyes, rubbing her elbow. “She went over the back of her chair, did she?” he said. “I didn’t see what happened.”

Relief washed over me. The other parents could judge if they wanted, but at least the dad himself hadn’t seen that I’d pretty much been responsible for causing the injury.

Or had I? Yes, alright, if I’d just stayed in my lane, it wouldn’t have happened. But is it such a crime to be a AwesomeDad every once in a while? At the end of the day, those three kids were being entertained whilst their parents were off somewhere else having a cup of tea or something. All I was doing was making them laugh. It’s not like I pushed her over myself.

This has been hanging over me all week, and I need some help processing this. Was I the bad guy here? Should I have just stuck to the brief and refused the call to entertain? Or was I just meaning well; was it just an innocent accident?

One thing’s for sure, I do need to rein in my inner AwesomeDad. Not just because of the clouded judgment it brings whenever it arrives, and not just because it’s a symptom of my nature to people-please.

It’s because on reflection, I realised that the first thought through my mind after the girl hit the floor wasn’t: Oh my goodness, is she alright?

Shamefully, it was: Damn, I would have looked awesome if I’d caught that chair.

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And breathe…

I don’t really feel great reading this one back. I still feel so awful about what happened. I can’t be the only one who’s really fucked something up parenting-wise, to the point where some kid’s left in tears because of my own negligence?

Come one, come all; this is a safe space. There’s no judgment here. It happens to us all. Tell me about your greatest parenting fuck-up - pop it in the comments below! At the very least, you’ll make me feel better about mine.

Also, let me know if you like these types of slice-of-life posts - I’m still experimenting to see what kind of thing I’ll be writing here going forward, but your opinion really matters to me. I don’t take for granted your time, so please let me know what you thin, either down below or by email if you prefer.

One more thing; please Restack this post if you found my disasterous afternoon in any way entertaining.

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Previously on Some Other Dad

Bracing for Baby Number Two

Last week I spoke about my preparations for baby number two, and how this time around it’s more mental preparation I’m doing rather than the material stuff you get sucked into the first time around. Alright, not totally - I’ve still been roped into hoovering the cupboard under the stairs.

Other previous issues

Gentle Parenting Your Kids and Yourself at the Same Time

Congratulations on the Birth of Your Existential Crisis

My Creaking, Knackered Father-Carcass

Making Friends in Fatherhood

1. She’s a bridesmaid, I’m a groomsman, and my eldest daughter will be a flower girl. And my youngest daughter won’t be with us because babies are not allowed to be there in case they scream their heads off and ruin the ambience. The logistics involved in handling all that is already frying my brain, and it’s not for another year.