Do you think you will be upset at the graduation then Daddy-Bear?
Pfft, it's hardly a graduation. She is finishing Nursery that's all.
I made a rubbidy-dubbidy farting noise with my luscious man lips. to show how daft I thought the very idea of a five-year-old graduating from Nursery was.
The good lady gave me a knowing look.
I know you, you're a big softie. You will be crying a river.
She grinned at the thought of the big dawg woofing out big woofy tears of woofdom.
Pffffft.
I scoffed, throwing in another rubbidy-dubbidy farting noise.
We'll see.
She smirked as she packed the last of the little boom's stuff into a bag.
We walked to the Nursery, It was an early morning ceremony and the sun was shining. I held my little lady's hand on the way up. Her last day. Maybe I didn't want to admit it but I did feel a little something wobbling about inside me like a ball in a wonky pinball machine.
Daddy, will you be there to see me at the Graduation show?
Asked my little lady earnestly.
Of course I will darling. I am taking time off work especially for it!
She skipped happily at the thought of her big Daddy-Waddy seeing her in the show. The good lady peered over from where she was pushing the pram at me.
I frowned at her with a big raised eyebrow. Behave yourself woman I thought irritably, I am not feeling emotional. Pfft!
We dropped the little lady off and went for a coffee.
We reminisced about the little lady and her growing up so fast. In no time at all, it was time to go to the graduation. We headed back to the nursery and took our seats in the hall.
We were early so managed to get front row seats.
The show started.
All the kids filed out and stood in a big line. There were about 15 of them, cute little five-year-olds all lined up.
The little lady caught sight of us and jumped up and down smiling and waving.
Something caught in my throat. A mad burp or something.
They started singing a song in which they all had little parts to play. The little lady did a dance and rang a bell.
As she did so some dust got in my eye.
I dabbed at it exasperatedly.
The song finished.
Next up was a montage on the big screen of the kid's achievements throughout the year accompanied by This is Me.
My little lady appeared on several of the photos and movie clips.
A big bad invisible something hit me in the gut and I made a muted honk like a goose in a box.
I looked around suspiciously to see if a Soviet assassin was hiding in the rafters having perhaps fired some manner of poison dart at me. I felt a bit wobbly and everything looked a bit blurry.
The good lady passed me a handkerchief.
There you go Daddy-Bear.
She gave me a hug.
I dabbed my eyes. Obviously, I wasn't crying. It was just so dusty in here... Or was it the hayfever? Something anyway. Bloody hayfever that was it.
Or assassins, it could very well be assassins.