One job at Christmas always seems to land on the shoulders of dads.
As I now have two little humans calling me by the D word, that means I can add this laborious task to my CV. Since 6am on Christmas Day it seems like all I’ve been doing is putting toys together.
I shouldn’t complain as I shirked out of the other boring task of wrapping presents, nicely done by my partner, Serena, so it’s my turn to step up and do the job no-one wants.
I’m lucky to still have all my fingers remaining after fighting with unnecessary packaging, especially toys that are vacuum-packed with that horrible hard plastic that has left my hands with a few unpleasant grazes.
Then I grab the instructions that come with diagrams I’m sure were drawn by a toddler and step-by-step instructions that leave me even more confused.
But persistence pays off and I put all the screws in the right places. All worthwhile when I see my daughter enjoying her new toy, until she hands me another box with another unassembled toy and I start all over again.