A Life in a Diary - P1

Shopping for Cereal Now You're Dead [Journal Entry 1 / G L Warbaton / 01.06.2015] - 

  Confession. I never really appreciated what drudgery and horror your weekly trip to the supermarket actually entailed. Pushing those satanic trolleys that seem possessed by vengeful, spiteful spirits, eager to drag you astray. Oh and Lacy by the way, her panic inducing habit of running off like some supermarket Indiana Jones, embarking on a quest to find some urgent artifact of crucial significance, how did you cope? Supermarkets are irredeemable, it's been decided. Strange that they should have a whole aisle dedicated to cereal, don't you think? Queasy coloured boxes galore featuring hideous cartoon mascots with Rabies smiles promising ecstasy at the bottom of a bowl of sugar. Endless iterations of sugar.  

  Only now do I appreciate your drill sergeant discipline, your diligent stock taking, list making. I have tried - very much to no avail, which would amuse you endlessly, no doubt - to replicate that stare that you would use on me and Lacy: that "if you f**k around right now, this will make things very, very unpleasant for the both of us" stare. I lack the affectation? Or perhaps I lack the substance? You were just so good at dealing with the difficult parts of parenting, carefully calculating, calibrating punishments with pinpoint precision. Aiming them at the enemy's (Lacy's - though we love her dearly) weak spots. Stuffed toys disappearing. Painting sets and play dates quickly pushed away. Your ruthless commitment to sculpting Lacy into a better person, you had to be the bad cop for us both. I quickly proved to be the pushover, the placater. Now you're gone I worry endlessly about how difficult I may have made things for you...

  I worry about how I will pick up from where you left off. I wish to speak endlessly of my guilt. I want to let you know that I can never, ever repay you for allowing me so many years of playing the role of parachute father, swooping in after work to do all the kissing, cuddling, crayoning... the hand puppet plays, book readings, giggling, laughing, gleefully repealing the draconian decisions of Judge Mum, ignoring precedent to say "ok, half an hour more" or "McDonalds it is!".