Dad Rules

If you must venture out, here are some suggestions…

1) Walk to the park

but don’t worry if you don’t actually arrive. On the way, there are puddles, and policemen, and dogs wearing lampshade heads. There is much to discuss. For two years, we talked about someone called That Little Little Boy. He was incredibly small, and incredibly shy, so he communicated to us, by leaving messages. Leaves holding balls of rainwater – that was a sure sign he’d been.

2) Invent your own park games

We play one called Mr Crow. Mr Crow is the most scary of all our fictional characters: he is a magician, in crow form. He flaps into open windows, and he steals children’s things. There is only one way to foil the Crow: you must hunt behind trees, you must find the toys. (Dad has to work like an old-fashioned copper. He must plant the evidence). After finding the most important bears, we all run at the crows, and let the dog chase them into the air. You may see that’s rascist and crowphobic. It is. But it’s also good exercise - the crows just give you a bad look and flap into the air - and the last sprint usually brings us within range of the swings.

3) Make friends

If you play with your children, others will join in. At our playground, there’s a train which you can pedal round and round a circular track. We love the train. We whoosh down hills. We go slowly through tunnels. We always visit the beach. Some days we develop a queue of kids waiting to get on. We make each one gives us tickets. If they don’t have them, we give them leaves. Soon everyone is bonded. After a few minutes pedaling, I give my seat to a waiting driver, and I chat to the parents (so they don’t think I’m a freak). I hear about their lives, and, for the next hour, our children become best friends in the world. The intense, one hour friendship: that’s the very essence of childhood.

4) Take your children to the shops

and tell them you’re training them to be detectives. “Your first job,” tell them, “is to notice things we need.” Your children will delight in finding the Marmite. They will consider themselves experienced hunter-gatherers, if they spot the wet wipes. Now make the game more interesting. Tell them the shop is magic, and the things can talk. Grab the ketchup. Wiggle it like it’s alive, and put on a ketchupy voice (I favour an Italian accent): “Hellooo… You need me for your sausage. Shall I jump in your trolley wolly!” Now show them that some products are telling lies. Grab some Stilton Cheese, and do your posh stilton voice: “Hello! You simply MUST have me! I’m delicious!” Delighted, your children will rebuke the cheese, and you will agree with them: “Go away cheese! You smell like socks, and you look granny’s ankle!” When you reach the crisps aisle, it’s best to divert attention by showing them the igloos (the freezer section). In the frozen section there is much for the expert dad to work with. He can lift out fish who will talk in sad plaintive tones: “I’m really cold… and someone’s stolen my fish fingers? Help me find them!” By now, the security guard may be loitering nearby, but your children will be having fun. So will you.

5) Take them for a ride on a tube train

They will enjoy holding the poles. They will let go of the poles, for a spot of tube surfing. They will be fascinated that the train is burrowing underground, like a worm. They will peer out the windows a little anxiously. When the station arrives, they’ll be amazed.

6) Avoid cars wherever possible

Friends often say: “You must all visit. We’ll do you a great lunch.” I want to say: “You live an hour away. That’s an hour of traffic jams, and crisps getting stuck to legs, and horrid music in which high-voiced psychopaths sing of a nightmare world where the wheels of the bus go, endlessly, round and round. After that, I’ll need more than lunch. I’ll need drugs. I’ll need a massage. I’ll need you to carry me home.” Cars are pressure cookers of stress. But if you can’t avoid going in one, remember these rules:

• There are women who can run vast businesses. There are women who can sail the oceans solo. There are none who can get in the car. Load the kids, do up their seatbelts, and be prepared to wait ten minutes.
• The hot atmosphere will make everyone sleepy. Start no conversations. Relax.
• If the kids get restless, play them a CD which tells a good story. Make sure it doesn’t involve Rainbow Fairies, or any songs that involve letters of the alphabet. Better still, tell them a story yourself.

7) Take them to a Museum

Don’t be afraid to lie about the exhibits. Tell them: “All these pots are magical. Tell me which one is most beautiful. Tell me which one contained poison.” Enthuse about their answers, which will of course be completely right. Let them explore about the rooms. Follow them. If they follow outside, that’s fine. In any day, you don’t need to see more than one truly magical pot.

Our favourite museums are…

• British Museum (Got magical pots used for poisoning princesses).
• The Museum of Childhood (Get yourself a coffee, and sit by the sandpit).
• The Pitt-Rivers Museum in Oxford. (They’ve got dinosaurs and some real live tarantulas).
• The Roahl Dahl Museum. (Click here to read the story of our visit)

8) Go camping

Children like deciding what food should be brought. They take a keen interest in the sleeping bags. They love making the tents. As you lie down to sleep, you will feel peculiar. You are lacking your computer, and your cooker, and your front door. You are wondering if, without them, you can cope. In the morning, you will wake to find dew on your feet, and you’ll realise you can.

9) Go to the movies

As you may have noticed by now, I don’t recommend going to many public places. The world is full of fearful people. Don’t get scared, I say. Get agoraphobic. But make sure you’re giving your kids the message that the world is a safe and exciting place. You can show them pictures of upcoming films. Discuss which ones you’d enjoy. Discuss a good time to go. And make sure you go. Sure Ratatouille was a merely passable entertainment. (I know boys who love fairies, I know girls who love pirates. I’ve never met one child interested in restaurant critics.) The film was average, but you must admit… it’s a joy being in an auditorium of small children. They weep at sad bits. They roar with laughter. In loud voices, they speculate on what might happen.

What are the best current films? Which ones are coming soon? And what other activities can you suggest?