That is a word I have been hearing every night for the past five years.

Like most people, I dislike the feeling of being used. But there is a person who leaves me with this feeling every night. The sick part is, I don’t mind.

She is always second-last to bed. I am always the last, even when I try to be first.

I have had many a late night conversation with her since she was old enough to talk. We would flick through all the news channels on telly until something grabbed our attention. For whatever reason she felt like she was in charge of our house. Not me, nor my wife. She was the boss.

Even when the others (her newborn sisters) arrived she would dictate where everybody would sleep, who sat where in the car, how the chicken nuggets would be divided. She ruled the roost.

I remember one time when she was getting too big for her boots, at the ripe old age of three, my wife swung the car into the driveway of our local orphanage.

“That’s it! Out you get.” She said.

Our little rascal laughs aloud, “You’re funny, Mammy!” She knew who was boss.

She is now 17, I think. After summer she will, most probably, be moving out to a third level college somewhere. She fancys herself as a Scientist. I can see it also. I hope her dreams come true.

I will miss her. I will, believe it or not, miss her bossy behaviour. Each night, around about now, she will get up from her chair and head for bed. Then she pops back within minutes and throws me a Hot water bottle (in winter) and says “Daddy, tea and a water bottle!”

I tried to refuse plenty of times but I always end up doing as she says. She makes false promises like “..this will be the last time.” or “I feel sick Daddy, just do it, thanks.”

I always fall for it. I drag myself away from the news (what they want us to believe) and put the kettle on.

Each night as I set the mug down on her bedside table, she goes “Sucker!” I will miss that after summer. I will also miss the way she calls after me, on my way back to the news, “Love you Daddy!”

Speak of the Devil. Here she comes, water bottle in hand. I don’t give her a chance to ask. I just hold my hand out and take it from her.

“Good man, you’re learning.” Comes her reply.

What a sucker I am!


Three weeks of blogging. I could get used to this. šŸ™‚ Cheers to all those who give it a go.

And thanks to my blogging friends.

Thank you for reading


16 thoughts on “Sucker!

  1. hahaha…I’m a sucker too….in our house it’s an eleven year old lad who is as tall as I am and has 20 times more energy…who is sprawled on the couch going ‘ Mammy PLEASE PLEASE make me pancakes….with his face contorted to try to look like he’s five again…and I do…because I know that all too soon the couch will be empty……..(wipe away tears…lol!!)

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  4. You old softie….moms and sons, Dads and daughters, eh? I know you’ll miss these times. Too funny your wife pulling into the orphanage. She sounds like a real fiery one! Wonderful story. šŸ™‚ we are all glad you’re liking this blogging thing. šŸ˜‰

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