Fatherhood will leave you lost for words

The books on my bedside table are coated in a thick layer of dust. This weekend, I’ll probably read a few sports pages while I’m cooking the roast but more than ever I’m completely reliant on the radio for mental stimulation.

Little Buddha’s colic is pretty bad and some nights she rages from 7pm until midnight. During the week, the Duchess does the night feed but lately I’ve also had to get up most nights to soothe Boy Wonder, who is unusually – but understandably – unsettled.

The combination of all this is that I find myself at work opening my mouth to speak and then instantly forgetting my point. Even when I do patch together a few thoughts I struggle to find the most basic words to express them. So my mouth is open and my eyes are glassy a lot lately. I’m the best advert for having kids when you’re young.

It must be even worse for the Duchess. Some days she’s cocooned from the world, with a toddler and a baby for company. She’s exhausted most of the time and her thoughts are dominated by planning for the next feed while entertaining Boy Wonder. Maybe that’s why she grunts at me a lot.


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