Dan Morris: Injecting more magic into 'dadulthood'
With a couple of my limbs largely covered in tattoos, I’ve never really had a problem with needles – until this week.
Vaccinations have never bothered me. As an 11-year-old I endured the dreaded TB jab without a flinch, at 33 I was first in line when they’d finally cracked Covid, and over the years I’ve given blood several times. All-in-all I’ve always been a tough-enough cookie when it comes to being punctured, but this Tuesday’s adventure was a different story – namely because the skin being pricked was far more precious than my own.
It was time for my three-year-old bambina to sit down with a nurse and brave a round of jabs that would fortify her against some of the biggest germy baddies in the land. Her mum had done a brilliant job of prepping her for the event, but the princess was still a little nervous, and with that, so was I.
I did my best not to show it, and thus heighten my daughter’s trepidation. But, as we made our way into the doctor’s surgery, my heart was going ten to the dozen in a manner it had never done ahead of my own inoculations.
It’s an age-old story, and I am hardly the first parent to experience far more nervousness on behalf of their child than they would ever experience for themselves. But it always surprises me how much you do actually feel it when faced with these realities, even when you know the wellbeing of your kiddie is in perfectly safe hands.
The nurse was excellent – putting us all at ease and handling everything with an expert touch that years in the job had clearly cultivated.
Bambina didn’t exactly take her jabs lying down, but in the grand scheme of things was as brave as a bear, and in no time at all we were on our way out of the surgery for a promised full-English brekkie and a platter of other treats. Mission completed.
It was another right-of-passage moment for my little ‘un that could be hung under the banner of ‘they grow up so fast’, and it wasn’t to be the only one of the day.
Post jabs, we also made a far happier pilgrimage to our local Post Office to pick up the requisite paperwork for tinker’s first passport application.
Headed to the House of Mouse this summer thanks to the wonderful generosity of her grandad, proud little ‘un of course needs to be able to legally travel overseas before she can stomp Disneyland Paris’s fabled streets.
I maintain – they grow up so fast.
The paperwork with this should prove pretty uncomplicated; the challenge, I expect will come in another form.
While my daughter could never really be accused of being camera shy, getting her to sit still and sombre enough for the required passport shot could prove to be quite the event.
She did manage to remain statuesque enough for her first haircut a couple of months ago, but I suspect resisting the urge to give her toothiest grin and jazz hands for the camera will be another bridge to cross entirely.
Naturally, as a pint-sized lover of all things pink, she’s incredibly excited about her first trip to Sleeping Beauty’s Castle, and, of course, the latest addition to the globally-renowned French theme park in the form of The World of Frozen.
I have to say, I’m quite looking forward to visiting the land of Arendelle (and particularly Wandering Oaken’s sauna) myself. Plus, since my last trip to Disneyland, there is now a Star Wars section and a Marvel hotel. Nobody caters for the dads like good ol’ Walt.
It seems only five minutes since I first found out my little ‘un would be coming into the world, and the moment I first started fantasizing about our inaugural foreign holiday together.
Now that it is nearly here, I’m more excited than I could have ever thought possible – though also somewhat terrified about how swift the passage of time now truly is. Before long it’ll be school uniforms and sleepovers, and then in another blink of an eye it’ll be bunking off and snogging behind the bike sheds.
I like to think (and, in fact, I know) that growing up fast means she’s having a great time doing so. But as those of us far longer in the tooth know, you don’t want to skip too quickly to adulthood; being a kid is as good as it gets.
Still, as I say, nobody does dad fun like Disney, and while my daughter is getting older, this summer I plan to use our sojourn in Paris to get younger – even if just for the week.
Iron Man, Chewbacca and Woody from Toy Story here I come – autograph book at the ready. I don’t think I’ll be able to hide my grin on my new passport photo either…
