I can see why it happened. I can. I really can. I can even see how I may have contributed to it. Perhaps. My wife removes the ‘may’part. But when it happened it was awful. My mind clouds. All I could manage was a gutteral ‘OH FUCK’, and a lunge towards the household aisle. Where did this happen, I sense you ask? Lidl. That wonderful and terrible palace of play; custom built for children to age their parents by several years during each visit. I went from 33 years to at least 67 in a heartbeat, and all because of toilet roll. As a consequence, my four year old firstborn, son and heir is utterly banned from the aisle of domesticity, with immediate effect, until he leaves home. So there.
As I alluded to earlier, the spark of creativity for ‘Loorollgate’ may well have been ignited by myself. Several times. Now afficianados of Lidl will know that the toiletroll section resembles a soft and inviting game of Tetris, with infinate potential to delve out hiding places from one’s Mother\Spouse. It is stacked bloody high. Fits of Father\Son giggles often ensue when my offspring and I frantically construct a ‘fort’. As my brain and sense of humour has not significantly changed since I was Six, you will understand that this ritual is a major incentive to go food shopping of an afternoon.
Well yesterday I found myself, alongside my son, marvelling at a gaudy selection of ceramic knives in the random aisle. Then it happened. I made the fatal mistake of reading the description and he had vanished. Without visible or audible trace. It can only have lasted seconds, but my spasmic pivoting lurches searching for him felt like a decade. And then I heard it. The ‘I know I’ve been a cheeky little sod, and you haven’t realised how yet’ chuckle. The one that makes my blood run cold. It came from above. Loudly accompanied by a ‘You’re the dirty rascal, ha ha ha haaaaaa’. He had scaled the blocks of 24 pack looroll to the very pinnacle, and sat at the top with a beatific grin, guffawing like an Aztec God of doom. I was somewhat unprepared for this. He had never done it before. In case you hadn’t guessed, this was where the ‘Oh Fuck’ part came. Mercifully, he missed that part.
Over 24 hours later, I am still plagued by the evil, self-torturing ‘what if’ scenarios that every parent gets following lucky escape. Thankfully, he just slid down the stepped blocks and in to my arms, giving me a hug and yelling “that was AWESOME”. I had already decided by that point that from now on in, he will remain on my shoulders for the duration of all of our future visits. In fact, for the entirety of any excursion involving large quantities of pliant household goods.
© Tom Tide 2016