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1/2/21: Arlo wiped a substantial amount of snot on the back of my armchair. It’s now dried – and it has formed a crust that’s more impenetrable than the shell of a Ninja Turtle.

2/2/21: Arlo is on a Pokémon hot streak, but instead of catching Pokémon, he’s catching bumps to the head – three in three days!

3/2/21: I’m in the middle of changing Arlo’s nappy, when he takes his glasses off. I ask him to put them back on, and he replies ‘Na’ – marking the first time he has directly opposed an instruction using dialogue (he usually just ignores me).

4/2/21: I can’t believe I’ve been a dad for over a year, and have only just tasted Calpol for the first time since childhood.

5/2/21: I’ve suggested to Arlo that we either go upstairs or downstairs, but that we shouldn’t remain where we currently are – on the middle of the stairs, where we’ve been for the last five minutes – because he found a speck of dust that he keeps pointing to while saying ‘Dirty’.

6/2/21: Arlo woke up at 5.15 a.m., so his mum – charitable soul that she is – kindly brought him into bed with us, where I endured ninety minutes of hair-pulling and face-clawing. It was at that point I concluded that he was probably not going to go back to sleep.

7/2/21: ‘You need to watch him when he’s painting,’ Arlo’s mother says to me.

‘I am watching him,’ I say in defence.

‘Then why has he got paint in his mouth?’

‘…’

8/2/21: Arlo and I have each had an interesting idea. My idea is that he should stop closing his Spot the Dog book with my finger trapped inside. His idea is to carry out my idea in its exact-opposite form.

9/2/21: Walked upstairs to find Arlo’s mother on her hands and knees, scrubbing the carpet in his nursery. Apparently, on her way to the bathroom to clean his reusable nappy – one he had number two’d in – she dropped the entire contents of said nappy on the floor. I tried to help by laughing – but apparently that wasn’t helpful.

10/2/21: What sort of 83 cm monster devours a bowl of spaghetti bolognese, inhales a medium plus-sized banana, and them calmly enquires of his parents if there’s anything more to eat?

11/2/21: We’ve spent fifteen minutes wrestling with Arlo to get him ready to go out for a five-minute walk. Just as we open the door, a nasty aroma permeates the air, invading my nostrils and singeing the back of my throat. This tells me two things: we’re not going out for a walk, and I wasted the last fifteen minutes of my life.

12/2/21: Arlo is in serious need of a lockdown haircut. I know this because his mother is able to subject the poor man to a topknot.

13/2/21: I managed to drag out a walk around the car park chasing pigeons with Arlo so that it lasted a whole half hour. Only parents will know the value of this – it’s like waking up thinking it’s Monday morning and you have to go to work, only to realise it’s SATURDAY!

14/2/21: Happy Valentine’s Day. The most romantic thing I’ve done is set a calendar reminder for six months’ time to change the water filter.

15/2/21: We’ve gone out for a walk in the park. Arlo has taken himself off to stressy-little-bas***d town, because we’ve told him he can’t keep the random dog’s ball that his eyes have just found.

16/2/21: Arlo’s mum has come out of the shower, and she’s naked. She asks Arlo, ‘Where does mummy’s poo-poo come from?’ Arlo answers by walking straight up to her and – while loudly exclaiming ‘Poo-poo’ – slaps her in the vagina.

17/2/21: Arlo thinks it’s hilarious to send me out in the hallway with his toy Hoover, shut the door and then p**s himself laughing. Admittedly I do myself no favours by complying. Sidenote: picture a 35-year-old man, alone in his hallway, playing with his 15-month-old’s toy Hoover while being laughed at by the other residents in his house.

18/2/21: Good news/bad news concerning Hey Duggee becoming Arlo’s favourite show. Good news: Hey Duggee is awesome as s**t. Bad news: it means I now miss out on hearing the Go Jetters theme tune each morning.

19/2/21: Arlo dished out another vaginal injury to his mother – this time by way of a knee – resulting in her using visual and auditory cues to express significant pain. Arlo decoded those cues as all part of the game, and responded by laughing in her face.

20/2/21: I’m downstairs working when I hear Arlo’s mother full-name him. I don’t know what he did, but it must have been way below the belt to elicit a full-name chastising.

21/2/21: I’ve told Arlo’s mother that I need to eat lunch downstairs today because I’m working. That is a lie – work is dead. I just thought I’d conjure up a storyline featuring an outcome where I get to eat all of my lunch, and not have to share it with Arlo – who, I might add, has just learnt to say the word ‘more’.

22/2/21: He flat out refused to eat his toast unless we dunked it in tea.

23/2/21: An M16 rifle is capable of firing up to 800 rounds per minute. An Arlo-Mega-VoiceboxPro is capable of firing off the world ‘Hoover’ at a rate of 9,000 utterances per second.

24/2/21: Arlo has told his first lie. He said he’d done a ‘poo-poo’ (when he hadn’t) so that one of us would take him upstairs to change him – where he could access his favourite books. I’m equal parts horrified and proud.

25/2/21: Arlo’s mummy: ‘I’ve just messaged the NCT mums’ group to ask if anyone else’s child laughs in their face when they’re being told off for being naughty.’

26/2/21: Arlo told his mum off because he gave her the dustpan and brush, but she didn’t say ‘Ta’ – I’ll remind readers that Arlo is 15 months – not 15 years.

27/2/21: Arlo’s mummy: ‘All I seem to do is pick up your things and put them away.’ I’m scared to ask which male house resident she’s referring to.

28/2/21: Arlo farted so loudly that it sounded like a firework going off in a nearby park.

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Dear Dory: Journal of a Soon-to-be First-time Dad is available in the following formats: eBook, audio, paperback and hardback – from all the major retailers: Amazon, Apple, Google Play, Kobo, Barnes and Noble and many more storefronts use this link to access them all!​

Until next time,

Tom Kreffer

Author of Dear Dory (check out the book trailer here)

Regards,