My Bride and I share the driving duties, that is taking Our Three to school, although I have the good fortune of having a slightly larger slice of this particular parenting pie.
And with all due respect to My Bride, the kids have a far better time with Dad.
Take the other day. It was a lovely morning.
‘Daddy,’ Jon said, from behind me. ‘I have to vomit.’
‘Good,’ I said. ‘Open the window.’
So he did. I then looked at my side-view mirror, saw Jon’s head poke out and then what sort of looked like breakfast fly out in a quite a stream behind us.
Then I sat down for morning coffee at school. (The school owner feels so guilty for the tuition he charges, that he offers parents ‘free’ coffee in the mornings.)
One parent spoke up. Kids in Hong Kong now spend something like five minutes and 18 seconds with their fathers, he said. This, in an entire day. This is what he had just read.
I sipped some coffee and raised my eyebrow. I could still see Jon’s head out the window, that flying vomit trailing behind us as we sped down the highway.
Five minutes with Dad in Hong Kong, eh? My kids just had 45 minutes with me. The day has barely started. And this has been quality time.
One more reason to live in Africa.