I am over halfway through a great novel by Cormac McCarthy which I picked up in a second hand bookshop during the week. It is titled The Road and details the relationship between a father and son as they struggle to survive in a post apocalyptic world of predatory hostility.  As the father of a six year old boy, the story has a certain resonance beyond the book.  But whereas the father in McCarthy’s novel is loyal to a fault my son regards me as a cheat.

Usually when he tires in the evening, as a prelude to going to bed, he asks for his cuddle which has to be from me otherwise there is a protest. Each night we go through the ritual of ‘last one up the stairs is a rotten egg.’ He positions himself in the hall closest to the stairs before making the announcement. As I usually try to con him out of his victory he has grown wise to all the ruses and will no longer accept the offer of sweets or an invitation to look at the fireworks or exotic creatures out the back. My promise of €5, temptingly visible in my outstretched hand, he treats like a wily fox would a trap, something to be shunned. On this occasion he put sufficient distance between us so that he would be out of my physical reach, his path to the bedroom and triumph unhindered. So sure was he of being first across the line, he even told me the rules allowed me to play one of my customary tricks.

There was no point in trying the chocolate buttons fraud or shouting excitedly ‘look, look, there is something great about cars on TV, quick or you’ll miss it.’ He won’t fall for any of it. So, once he gave starters orders the race began, him running and me vainly trying to grab his ankle as I reached between the spindles on the stairs as he galloped past. He hugged the wall furthest away from my clutching hand, having seen that one coming. When he got to the top and started to gloat that I was the rotten egg I turned the light out and said ‘there’s the zombie.’ At first he braved it out insisting there was no zombie.  I said ‘there he is and he is going to bite you, last one down is the zombie’s dinner, run, run.’  As I made my way up he passed me on his way down, howling. At the top I started to shout ‘you’re the rotten egg.’ Forlorn, dejected and in tears he came up and told me I had cheated. There was no consoling him and I apprehensively awaited his mother to shout up and demand that I ‘stop winding up that child.’

I tried explaining to him that he had told me I could play a trick; rules were rules and all that. ‘But you played a scary trick.’ So that was the new rule, no scary tricks; every rule adjustment tweaked to his advantage of course. Once we agreed no more scary tricks he conceded ‘you tricked me good’, knowing that at that point it was of neither consolation nor advantage to me.

So, tonight, battle will resume. When he reaches the top of the stairs the bedroom door will be locked. I shall have the key so it does not really matter how quick he gets up. The lights can stay on and not a mention of a zombie. I will open the door and run in first and see what tomorrow’s new rule is so that I can work out how to cheat again.

The joys of being father to a six year old.

Zombie on the Stairs


I am over halfway through a great novel by Cormac McCarthy which I picked up in a second hand bookshop during the week. It is titled The Road and details the relationship between a father and son as they struggle to survive in a post apocalyptic world of predatory hostility.  As the father of a six year old boy, the story has a certain resonance beyond the book.  But whereas the father in McCarthy’s novel is loyal to a fault my son regards me as a cheat.

Usually when he tires in the evening, as a prelude to going to bed, he asks for his cuddle which has to be from me otherwise there is a protest. Each night we go through the ritual of ‘last one up the stairs is a rotten egg.’ He positions himself in the hall closest to the stairs before making the announcement. As I usually try to con him out of his victory he has grown wise to all the ruses and will no longer accept the offer of sweets or an invitation to look at the fireworks or exotic creatures out the back. My promise of €5, temptingly visible in my outstretched hand, he treats like a wily fox would a trap, something to be shunned. On this occasion he put sufficient distance between us so that he would be out of my physical reach, his path to the bedroom and triumph unhindered. So sure was he of being first across the line, he even told me the rules allowed me to play one of my customary tricks.

There was no point in trying the chocolate buttons fraud or shouting excitedly ‘look, look, there is something great about cars on TV, quick or you’ll miss it.’ He won’t fall for any of it. So, once he gave starters orders the race began, him running and me vainly trying to grab his ankle as I reached between the spindles on the stairs as he galloped past. He hugged the wall furthest away from my clutching hand, having seen that one coming. When he got to the top and started to gloat that I was the rotten egg I turned the light out and said ‘there’s the zombie.’ At first he braved it out insisting there was no zombie.  I said ‘there he is and he is going to bite you, last one down is the zombie’s dinner, run, run.’  As I made my way up he passed me on his way down, howling. At the top I started to shout ‘you’re the rotten egg.’ Forlorn, dejected and in tears he came up and told me I had cheated. There was no consoling him and I apprehensively awaited his mother to shout up and demand that I ‘stop winding up that child.’

I tried explaining to him that he had told me I could play a trick; rules were rules and all that. ‘But you played a scary trick.’ So that was the new rule, no scary tricks; every rule adjustment tweaked to his advantage of course. Once we agreed no more scary tricks he conceded ‘you tricked me good’, knowing that at that point it was of neither consolation nor advantage to me.

So, tonight, battle will resume. When he reaches the top of the stairs the bedroom door will be locked. I shall have the key so it does not really matter how quick he gets up. The lights can stay on and not a mention of a zombie. I will open the door and run in first and see what tomorrow’s new rule is so that I can work out how to cheat again.

The joys of being father to a six year old.

36 comments:

  1. Anthony,

    Thoroughly recommend the film adaption of The Road, with the great Viggo Mortensen. Very bleak but moving film, well worth watching.

    Have to go through similar bed time rituals with my own clan, though i usually pass out before they do they have that much energy.

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  2. Mark,

    I would only have to wait until he matured and leave SF because daddy was right all along!! He is waiting at the minute trying to win again.

    MDU,

    Viggo Mortensen - brilliant actor

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  3. You big cheating ass , the poor kid I wonder which scared him more the thought of there being a Zombie or seeing you sprint up the stairs , Its great that the old tried and tested bedtime ritual is still alive and kicking , I remember it was a ghost in the room that done the trick .
    Just a thought that was once said to me and maybe you can take heed
    Never forget that he is getting bigger and stronger while you get older and weaker so some day he will kick your ass good and proper.
    Good story, kids are to be enjoyed at all times because they become stupid adults very quickly
    PS sorry about the error above I have just read the piece again and it didn’t say anything about you sprinting up the stairs, wouldn’t that be a mind boggling sight

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  4. Boyne Rover,

    cheating is part of the fun! He reckons he can beat me even when I cheat. I let him win all the arm wrestling competitions!

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  5. I always found the baseball bat(billy) worked in my favour in many a dispute about hitting the hay Anthony,now my two lads have flown the nest things would be boring around here without a four year old (going on 30}grandson who now runs the show,Enjoy every moment a cara because it passes so quickly.as for the kids joining qsf no chance!even Mickeyboys wouldnt be that daft.

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  6. Meant to say Anthony in your wee mans eyes your either a superhuman indestructable being or just a big walking teddybear depending on how he feels,and would ya change it ...

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  7. The Viggo Mortensen clip in his fight scene from "Eastern promises" is well worth a look on www.youtube.com.

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  8. Marty,

    I don't know what he thinks but he is my wee buddy!!

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  9. Anthony how beautifull is that ,may it last forever a cara,

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  10. AM-

    I have read my fair share of Zombie
    books but one of my favourite involving a father and son is the
    Cell by Stephen King-

    I don't like Zombie films as much as the books- the walking dead series on t.v is not bad- but they leave the story thats in the books [ comics ] to much-

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  11. MichaelHenry,

    Could say plenty about the zombies that hang onto every word from the Gerry & Martin show, lol.

    You're right about The Walking Dead though, thought the first series was excellent, 2nd one has started in the US I belief. The wife says its deviates too much from the books as well.

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  12. In my youth my Da would shout 'Right bed!' and that would be enough...

    I was Simon Templar in those days; I even had the eyebrow down, or should that be, up to a tee.

    Whereas The Saint won all his fights, I didn't; maybe it was down to the theme tune? You can't really hum the theme tune to The Saint when someone is trying to kick you in the clinkers or punch your face, with raised eyebrow, in!

    McGill, Richard Bradford. Now he was some guy. He didn't win all his fights either, even if he also had a great theme tune.

    The ole fella, me Da, was strict but he would take me everywhere with him. He had a wee garage where he fixed cars cheaper than the bigger places. He came from a Unionist family going back to his grandparents who worked for Lord Leitrim in Donegal.

    His Father, my Grandfather, Tommy was wounded at Thiepval Wood, Northern France on the 1st July 1916. Not by a German bullet mind you; he got hit by a supply train ffs.

    My ole fella's friend's were mostly Catholic, then he met and married my mother and his first born, myself, fell off the family tree taking a branch with me.

    That's not to say my father's family were bigots, far from it. I was quite close to my grandfather before the war wound eventually killed him in 1965. My Uncle Ernie often took me to watch the glorious twelfth but even so he enjoyed the party held for me after my release from jail. I buried him beside my Grandfather, down with the other Protestant Elliotts in Derry graveyard when he died.

    My fondest memories of my Da were when he used take me fishing with his mates to Fintown in County Donegal. After the fishing they would head to the local bar and I remember getting glasses of coke that looked like Guinness. I don't know to this day if my Da got the barman to put a head on it but it was great and made me feel like one of them.

    Then in the early hours of the morning his mates would help my Da get behind the wheel of the car and him full drunk and we would make our way home along dark winding roads.

    I was too young to realise that the grim reaper likely took a lift with us each time, but other names must have been written in his book on those nights in Donegal, so we managed to avoid the ditches and the cars coming in the opposite direction.

    It makes you think however. If I had been grimly reaped on one of these roads, then so would a future yet unborn son and daughter and my own personal branch of the family tree.

    Aye fond memories alright, but I have fond memories of my own kids and most certainly none of them includes drinking and driving.

    How did the theme to The Saint go again?

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  13. Dixie,

    you have a great story telling ability. Knew nothing of that background. really enjoyed your telling of it. The Saint - but the Avengers theme tune is going through my mind!

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  14. The tune that would stick in both Tain bo and myself,s head would be the opening/closing drum roll of Eastenders,kinda reminds us of our attempts are unassisted flying...cracking story Dixie been there a cara ...

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  15. Reading that made me smile & think of my own childhood. Not for the first time have I wished TPQ had a 'like' button.

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  16. Marty (& some others), I've obviously missed something having not been in in a while but could you explain to me what QSF is?

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  17. Belfast Bookworm,

    you might have started a competition here - bottle of whiskey to the best answer!

    I guess he means Queen's Sinn Fein. he might even mean Queen's Shilling First!

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  18. Anthony,

    I am still laughing at this one and was wondering what you will do when the wee man discovers your Achilles heel and takes up playing draughts I think it will be a safe bet he will give you more than a run for your money.

    Thoroughly enjoyed the article along with all of my own childhood memories it brought back.

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  19. Marty,

    You had me worried there with the drum roll. It made me laugh as I remember one drum roll back when the telly used to shut down for the night and God Save the Queen would play.
    A remote control would have been handy back then.

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  20. Maybe he means queenright, which is a group of social insects as far as I know.

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  21. AM-

    I am sure marty means-
    Quality Sinn Fein-

    Marty down under-

    Glad to see you back [ I had you killed of in those Australian storms lol ]
    I have just finished The walking dead- Rise of the Governor- a orgin story about one of the characters in the series- a good read-

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  22. LOL Tain bo, no a cara the drum roll I refered to was the sound I or my head made falling down the stairs last year and the sound you made when out on the hills courting and you attempted a Tarazan stunt for your woman and mis-cued.

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  23. MichaelHenry,

    Thanks for thinking about me, lol!

    Will have to get that one you mention, only read the first few books in that series and no where near where that character turns up. Have them sitting here for reading over the holidays. Brilliant series though

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  24. I think its Quisling sinn fein, i've seen it somewhere before

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  25. AM,
    If I win the bottle of whiskey, I want you to give it to Michael Henry, he needs it more than me...lol

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  26. Marty,

    Maybe one a those Zombies tripped you up or at least that is the excuse I would go with as for my tumble, well, I have no excuse and paid the price for showing off. I would feel better if I could say I was drunk at the time. I still get the well-deserved dogs abuse that one.

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  27. BKeane,

    as you say Q is for Quizling. Sometimes what is in front of the nose is not seen. Must be the whiskey!! Anyway Marty has cleared it up and have started a trend!

    MichaelHenry,

    never read The Cell. Found Pet Sematary chilling - zombie type thing

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  28. Belfast Bookworm,

    a like button seems a good idea but not sure it can be applied. I think he is fallen out with me at the minute. Wouldn't eat his dinner!

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  29. Belfast Bookworm,

    great idea. It is good to have a wife that can do these things. I would never have worked it out!

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  30. Jaysussss Anthony a like button would be a great thing, useful to. I could reverse the wiring on Mickeyboys to,it would be a shocking experience for our wayward friend.but it could help reverse the years of brainwashing he has endured at the hands of the qsf education dept.Come on Mickeyboy sing up "oh jingle bells Gerry smells Martin laid an egg,the gravytrain has lost a wheel and scap has got away"......

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  31. Tain Bo,

    I will cheat him at draughts too!!

    Marty,

    the like button is there now

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  32. Just lmao at that Zombie poster at the beginning of this post Anthony,and I thought to myself if you really want to see real Zombies wait untill the next election and have a gander at the qsf election team....

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  33. Marty,

    or just look out your window as a mob picketing your home - Night of the Living Dead

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  34. Fuck me a cara that really would be the stuff of nightmares and them all chanting kill for peace at the same time....

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  35. Had the privilege and pleasure of meeting this Zombie and indeed his big sister, I can testify that he is a fine wee man and as full of life as you would hope for from a child, his sister has a beautiful tone to her voice and is musically inclined indeed an alltogether grounded and talented family inspite of the shit they have had to endure ,so Anthony Carrie agus na páisti I raise a glass to you and wish you all the very best for the future.

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  36. Marty,

    you and Marie were truly wonderful hosts. Really enjoyed it. The kids did too. Thanks for everything. All of you enjoy your Xmas

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