I need to dye my What?

This morning my five year old son briefly broke from his Switch and in my opinion father/son protocol, to matter of factly inform me that my head was turning silver and I needed to dye my hair.

Out of the mouth of babes eh? Or in this case, out of the mouths of, well, the C word comes to mind.

Yet, as I recovered from his unguarded kick in the nuts I realised that he wasn’t to blame him for this announcement. His little mind has been craftily manipulated and to prove it we need to go back in time, just a few months.

Rewind to Father's Day 2019.

👇 I think the light makes it look more silvery than it is.....

I awoke to yet another celebration of my success in Life. I was heartily thanked in turn by my two kids for the positive impact I have made in their little lives. Fist bumped and High fived for being a stand-up Dad, another year of wiping butts, feeding ever hungry tummies and always picking up the cheque at the drive thru window.

I was for the briefest of moments, the star Quarterback, the unlikely hero, the Nobel Poo wiping prize winner. The World’s best Dad or at the very least the best Dad who lives in our house. Of course, I may have employed a smidgen of artistic license in my recollection of that morning. There were no high fives, no back slaps and the only impassioned speech came from my Wife, as she tried to coral both boys up the stairs to hand me cards and grunt out what I assume was “Happy Father's Day”.

Prospective parents take note, the terrible two’s and the dreaded teenage hangry years are separated only by what I refer to as the Jimmy Krankies. I appreciate many of you will need Google to give that name any relevance, a brief explanation would be to describe kids between 3 and 12 as curious little humans, sometimes funny, regularly mischievous and often cranky. It’s the no mans land of growing up, they can fend for themselves, to an extent while not quite old enough to be trusted although yearning to have the freedom of someone a lot older.

Anyway, back to Father’s Day. As i basked toastely in my bed, enjoying the cards the boys had prepared and imagining the fight my Wife must have undertaken to distract them from whatever internet enabled device they had to leave down while they scribbled their names, I was struck by the visit of a bright light in the bedroom.

It wasn’t a spiritual awakening.

👇 The legendary ‘Wee Jimmie Krankie’

FAN DABI DOZY

The Wife cruelly and without any warning thrust the curtains open, flooding the room with sunlight. As I writhed on the bed, struggling to adjust my gaze to the brightness, her smiling face came into focus and before I could even utter a What the Fudge, she offered me a gift bag.

“It's from me” she snapped, still grinning like a cheaply caffeinated lunatic. Regaining my composure, I gingerly accepted the gift, not breaking my glance from hers, as thoughts flooded my still slumbering mind.

I’m not her Father... She has never got me a Father’s Day gift before... What is going on? Awh shoot, she is up the duff again, isn't she? Like a big brave boy ripping off a band aid I tore open the bag to reveal....... shampoo.

Ok, breathe, it's just shampoo, slightly strange if I'm honest, but it's not anything baby related. Maybe she is trying humour and I just don’t get it, maybe it has some deeper meaning or personal connection and I’m missing the point. Awh Poo what am I forgetting here..

As I caught her gaze and offered up a ‘thank you dear’ that was both sincere and relieved, in equal measures. She launched into a seemingly well-rehearsed sales pitch, for shampoo. It cleans your hair kind of sums it up for me, but as she babbled away I took a closer look at the box and that’s when I saw those words

JUST FOR MEN!

What a cheeky female dog she is. She wants me to dye my hair and thinks this is a sure fire way to get me to.. Its time to be greatly offended and enjoy every minute of it..

Its true, admittedly, I have been gaining a few silver flecks here and there. I put it down to Marriage and kids as I didn’t have a single gray before they all came along. She may not like them but I have earnt these & see them as the signs of a manly parenting warrior. Much like stretch lines on Mothers, they were achieved in battle. I had a plan for them and it didn’t involve hair dye. I was going to go full Philip Schoffield, if a full head of silver hair is good enough for Gordon the Gophers best buddy then its ok for me.

Snap back to the current day to and I have used the JFM Shampoo twice. On both occasions I got it all over the shower and it left a big stain. That’s what you get Loving Wife, yeah scrub that crap off the wall. It now sits, unused, amongst the usual products, its cap not having flipped in some time.

I look down upon it triumphantly, whenever I take a shower, like a silver tinted champion, victorious, if only over a plastic bottle. The word, Winning, comes to mind

Victory aside, the flip the coin for a second. Imagine I had bought her waxing strips for her top lip? What sort of Inconsiderate Monster would I have been?

Wait, considering the kids comments this morning, maybe we should nail the coffin on the hair dye for good.

Let's just see what delights veet sell on prime delivery.