DAD DIARY: Boys will be boys

As you evolve as a parent, you learn to recognise sounds and their meaning. You hear one child say something that you know is very well-intentioned but will go down like a lead balloon with one of their siblings and so you know a row is coming.
The decision facing you is whether you stop it immediately or let it develop and let them learn to work it out themselves. A bit of the latter is no harm from time to time.
You are immediately on guard if you hear a bang. Something or someone has fallen with a thud. Your ears prick for the sound of a cry or, worse, a groan. Nervous laughter is a welcome noise – it means something has been dropped by someone. You can ignore it for the time being and address it later.
Except for last week when I heard the far-from nervous laughter after a bang and something made my antennae shoot up. It was coming from the spare room, or guest room, and I just didn’t trust Éamon and Séimí down there.
The room has two sets of bunk beds and the lads love going in, climbing up the beds. Boys will be boys, and while there was an element of worry about what could happen to them if they fell, you cannot monitor them all the time – and while both are adventurous, they are sure-footed and careful most of the time too.
But the laughter and excitement were at another level, and as I approached the room, I heard another bang.
I opened the door and there, in the middle of the floor between the two bunk beds was Séimí, roaring laughing and full of glee. Fear crossed Éamon’s face on a top bunk when he saw me, but Séimí didn’t so much as blink.
What were they at? Hadn’t they taken the four quilts from the four beds, piled them on top of each other in the middle of the floor and were hurling themselves at this ‘cushion’ from the top bunk!
I found the instincts of the big kid in me and those of the responsible parent were competing with each other. I was full of admiration for their ingenuity and daring, but I could also see how badly it could go if they tripped as they jumped or misjudged the landing.
Having spent too much of this year already in hospital with both of them – for something that was admittedly not their fault – the responsible parent took over, marched them out of the room and locked the door.
They’re only six and four. This is only the start. The antennae will have to be permanently raised.

In his long-running fortnightly Dad Diary column, Edwin McGreal charts the ups and downs of the biggest wake-up call of his life: Parenthood.