This archive report was first published on 13 September 2019.
As I watched my wife board a flight to Europe for her official duty, I couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions - excitement for her new adventure and dread for the daunting task ahead of me: taking care of our children and household for the next four weeks.
Before she left, she prepared me physically, mentally, and socially for the challenges of parenthood. She assumed I was clueless, which, let's be honest, I was.
First on her list was shopping. She drew up a budget with military precision and handed me a detailed list of instructions on how to deal with the house help. I was given strict orders to be home every day, have dinner with the children, and ensure they completed their homework and ate well.
But what about my game nights, I asked cheekily? Her response was a stern reminder that I was now in charge and had to oversee what the children ate every day. She even went so far as to specify that Farrah should alternate between cornflakes and Weetabix for breakfast.
As she left, she dropped a bombshell: her younger sister would be staying with us for the duration of her trip. I wasn't sure if she was there to monitor me or the house help, but I had a feeling her loyalty would lie with her sister.
For the first two days, everything ran smoothly. But on the third day, disaster struck. I forgot to leave money for milk and got stuck in a meeting that ran half a day. The house help called me frantically, saying the little boy was sick and they didn't know what to do.
I rushed home at lunchtime, only to find out that my wife had intervened from Europe, sending me a simple yet scathing message: 'Really?'
