I could quite happily throw the Wii off waterloo bridge, if Summer happened to be holding it at the time...well then so be it. That fucking console has caused me nothing but grief yesterday, it took me 2 hrs to cook dinner because every other minute I am pressing a sodding A button for Summer because she cant calm down enough to get the actions right.
I have said 'point the remote at the screen' about 62 times in the last 2 minutes. She is moaning when she loses, she is impatient, she has the balance powers of George Best after 3 pints of Vodka, she keeps calling me for help... press the A Summer, press the A!!!!!!!!
But she won't give up. She keeps playing and playing despite her being dreadful. She then refuses to eat our burned, cold dinner until she wins Table Tennis, every sound that comes out of her mouth his negative and whining. I develop a nervous twitch because every now and then she screams and I jump.
How could things change so dramatically in less than 24hrs. When the Wii first joined us I thought that all my prayers had been answered. I thought the WII would fit in where Part time dad left off - the Wii was a babysitter, an entertainer, someone I could count on, a friend to turn to when Eastenders was finished, I think the remote vibrates as well, so you know, good times.
When Summer finally went to bed, I tried to enjoy the calm with her sleeping next to me only to be punched in the face by her still playing Table Tennis in her sleep. I went downstairs to have a bit of a 1 on 1 time with the Wii - to see if it could redeem itself. No... it just took the piss out of me all night, first it took the piss about me having an Wii age of 59 (I am 29) then it super-sized my Wii avatar after I got weighed so it was more reflective of the Super Size me. Every time I completed a challenge it said I wasn’t good enough and made these sad depressing, disappointed faces at me (much like I give Summer) .
In other news Part time dad has realised that I am not talking to him and is fighting fire with fire - he is not trying to talk to me either, copycat! He has even gone as far as having a friend with him at times when we may have to talk so that we can't argue (as I am terribly middle class I wouldn’t dream of it) yes Rasta mouse's friend... Ghost (this is the only name I know him as, not sure if he was christened it, he too is Jamaican so there is a good chance) he has been at our house during the Summer handover time (after school, when I get home from work, before he goes and plays pool) he buffers all possible screaming matches between PT dad and I and he has been very good at making conversation during the frequent death stare awkward moments. Not sure if Ghost is a positive influence on Summer through as when she answered the door yesterday she whispered '' pretend you are the police!!''
'Why ? ' I whisper back
''because Ghost is scared of them''
''that’s silly Summer police are nice people''
''so why did he tell daddy he has been running away from them today''
Time for your friend to leave PT Dad.