I'm in bed, not very well and I'm listening to my husband freaking out over getting our child ready for school.
He hasn't organised anything.
I put out the uniform/coat/shoes/bag/food etc and all he has to do is take our child to school.
He's not left enough time to sort everything. The car needs de-icing and he's having a meltdown.
Now, I know it's not funny for our child as they have to deal with Daddy but what I'm finding funny is that he's finally getting his comeuppance.
He's never had to do that much until recently. I've been the one taking our children to school; I get everything ready; I do the shopping etc etc
He's pretty much been able to pootle on with his own life and -oooh look, I can be fun Dad and pretend like I'm doing stuff for a few minutes.
He's now having to actual do the normal stuff. The boring stuff. The responsible stuff. And I'm thoroughly enjoying it. What I'm not enjoying is the teenage-style whinging and bitching that he is finding it hard and the fact that he expects a massive round of applause or some kind of fucking medal for, well...parenting!