Daddy's Home: Too Much Happy

Ben's POV

I help Mummy make dinner. She has a big pan on the stove and I’m on my stool next to her. I like my stool. From it I can see everything. Now I see the pan and the rice and the eggs and the green peas in their little bowl. I gave Mummy the pan. I got the rice from the cupboard. I got the peas too. I am a good helper!

Mummy stirs. I reach up and put my hand on the spoon. “Together!” I say. We stir together. The rice goes round and round. I like that.

It smells so good. Butter! I like butter.

I hear the door.

(Door open!)

I know that sound. “Dada!” I shout. I let go of the spoon, jump off my stool, and run. I run fast through the food room to the door. Max runs too. Bump! I fall on the carpet. It doesn’t hurt.

Daddy is here!

Daddy is big. He bends down, picks me up high, and I grab his collar. “Hello there, young fella!” he says and boops my nose. I giggle.

He has a purple T-shirt. I have a purple T-shirt too. Today, purple is our favourite colour!

He carries me back to the food room. I still hold his collar. He kisses Mummy’s cheek.

My plate is on the table—rice and egg and green peas. I stretch my hands and Daddy puts me on my chair.

I grab my fork and eat. But I need to tell Daddy things. Important things. I point at Max. “Max—corridor—I fell—and then—” But the words get all jumbled. Daddy nods serious. “Yes! That happened.” He understands me.

I squeeze a green pea. Green paste! I lick it off my finger. I look at Daddy. I squeeze another. I offer it. “You eat, Ben. I’ll eat mine.” So I lick it off too.

After a while I’m done. Daddy and Mummy have empty plates. “Done,” I say. Daddy looks at me, then at Mummy. She nods. He stands up. “Bath time,” he says. Yay! Bath time! I love bath time!

Daddy carries me to the bathroom. I kiss his cheek and wrap my hands around his collar. His purple T-shirt turns green.

In the bathroom I show Daddy something awesome. I press my palm under the water. Water everywhere—on the mirror, on Daddy’s T-shirt, on the floor. Daddy dodges once. Dodges twice. I aim and get him on the chest. His shirt goes darker purple. I laugh a big laugh.

Splash again! He dodges. I laugh again. We splash and splash. The whole bathroom is wet and I’m so happy I can’t stop.

When we’re done, Daddy puts my pajamas on. I help with the arms. Then I hug him tight. His collar is stiff now and his shirt is wet. My pajamas are dry. I step back, take his hand, and jump all the way to the bedroom. Mummy waits in the bed. My chair is at the edge to climb up.

I run to the bed. I see Mummy and the book. Story time! I run a circle around the room with my arms out, shouting. Then another. Then I jump onto the bed.

Mummy watches me. She still has the book. She doesn’t open it. “Okay,” she says. “Five big jumps. Then story.”

I jump. One, two, three, four, five—and then a few more because it feels too good to stop.

Daddy appears in the doorway in a new T-shirt. He looks at me jumping. He looks at Mummy. He looks at me again. “Goodnight,” Daddy says and disappears. Mummy chuckles. I keep jumping.

Tina's POV

Ben is on his stool next to me, very serious about his role.

He got the pan. He got the rice from the cupboard. He found the peas. Now he's supervising the stirring, which means his hand is on the spoon too. I let him. We stir together. The rice goes round and round and he watches it like it's the most important thing happening in the world right now.

It might be.

I add the butter and he leans in to smell it. He indulges in the smell, grin on his face.

Then the door.

I don't even finish the thought. He's already off the stool and running, shouting "Dada!" across the apartment. I hear the collision with Max — the thud, the carpet, the half-second of silence — and wait. No crying. Good.

Dean's voice: "Hello there, young fella."

I smile at the pan and keep stirring.

They come back into the kitchen together, Ben wrapped around Dean's arm like he's never letting go. Dean kisses my cheek. I look at the two of them — same purple T-shirt, same jeans, same black socks. Ben looks like a miniature version of him. A sweet, chubby, excited miniature.

Dinner is loud. Ben has important things to tell Dean. Very important. Something about Max and the corridor and falling, delivered in a word salad at high speed. Dean nods along, completely straight-faced. "Yes. That happened."

Ben's mumbling random words, I think. Very attentive of Dean to follow all of it.

Ben squeezes his peas one by one and licks the paste off his finger. Offers one to Dean. Dean declines. Ben eats it himself, satisfied. The paste is not only on his fingers, though. The forehead, the ears, the hair... All green. He needs a bath. And bath means fun.

Dean looks at me, asking. I nod. They go to the bathroom. I start clearing the table.

I hear splashing. Laughter. More splashing. Dean saying something, then Ben's laughter again — the full-body one, the one that fills the whole apartment.

I stack the plates. Wipe the counter. Listen.

More splashing. Dean's mock-outrage voice. Ben shrieking with delight.

I put the pan to soak and dry my hands.

By the time I've made the bed ready — cover back, pillow in place, stool at the edge — I can hear them coming down the corridor. Ben's voice, still going. Dean's lower one underneath it. Then Ben's footsteps, fast, and Dean's slower ones. Wait, is Ben jumping?

I sit on the bed with the book.

Ben appears in the doorway, sees me, sees the book — and instead of coming to the bed he runs a full circle around the room with his arms out, shouting. Then another. Then he launches himself onto the bed.

I watch him. I don't open the book.

"Okay," I say. "Five big jumps. Then story."

He jumps. One, two, three, four, five — and several more, because he has never in his life stopped at five.

Dean appears in the doorway in a dry T-shirt. He takes in the scene: Ben airborne, me sitting patiently with the book. He looks at me. I look at him.

"There goes the quiet bedtime routine", I think.

"Goodnight," Dean says with a guilty face, and disappears.

I chuckle.

Ben keeps jumping.

Inspired by

Research on emotion flooding, both negative and positive. I found the descriptions and ideas in Tiny Humans, Big Emotions by Alyssa Blask Campbell and Lauren Elizabeth Stauble helpful.

Toddlers can't modulate big positive emotions any more than negative ones. Uninhibited joy or excitement floods the system just as overwhelm does. The wild, spinning, shouting, can't-settle energy when Daddy walks in is pretty close to a meltdown. But funnier.

It is easy to notice meltdowns. But noticing that someone is overwhelmed by happiness or excitement is not always straightforward. Tina's solution — give it somewhere to go before asking it to stop — is not a failure of the bedtime routine. It's deceleration. Gradual. Necessary.

What are your ways of dealing with positive emotion flooding? Let me know in the comments.

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(Photo by Brooke Balentine on Unsplash)