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Six traits of a highly familial president

ILLUSTRATION | JOSEPH BARASA

Safe pair of hands

Blame it on our city’s tiny tenant cribs. We remodelled Pudd’ng’s cot. At night, I unlock it, and, voila, Pudd’ng’s good to go. She knows that, barring unforeseen circumstances like last week’s bout of malaria, dad’s the one who makes her bed.

“Mummy? That’s not how daddy makes my bed,” I overhead baby girl complain to Tenderoni, as I nursed a doggone anopheles bug.

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“Who’s making the bed? Me or you?”

“But daddy doesn’t do it like that, he …”

“Tut-tut!”

What Pudd’ng’s trying to say is, I’m a safe pair of hands. Although, man, I can’t find me a pair of socks to save my corns! Here’s hoping the newly-elected President’s handiwork will set the bar. Plus, leave a lasting legacy.

Active pair of ears

If you blinked, damn, you missed it. Something insightful happened on election night of 2012 at Chicago’s McCormick Place. It was unscripted and showed just how much the POTUS (President of the United States of America) stacks up in parenting bullions.

The atmosphere was electric. President Obama had just won a highly-charged re-election. The First Family stepped on the podium. Soaking in the historic moment, the 44th President concentrated his waves on the crowd before him.

His daughter, Sasha, gesticulated and whispered something to him. It is unbelievable that he heard, leave alone responded. He turned and waved at the crowd behind; which shows he’s a dad who listens – actively - even in deafening dins. Here’s hoping our incoming CEO is taking listening lessons.

Loving pair of ventricles

Time for a confession, I’m still learning to say “I love you” as much as I’m supposed to. And I’m learning this from; you’ve guessed it, my six-year-old daughter.

Last Sunday as we were going to church, Pudd’ng greeted a boy her age. “He’s Muriuki, my classmate,” she replied when I asked. And so we went on our way.

Minutes later, I turned to see Muriuki following us, while Pudd’ng darted knowing looks behind. Several years from now, if Muriuki pulls this stunt, swear I’ll pull my stun gun.

Still, love’s contagious. I hope our new president will learn this lingo from children around him, because that’s the universal language that can turn him into a Pied Piper.

Real pair of ‘kid gloves’

We came up with a system where, instead of losing our tempers while berating Pudd’ng for not eating, the numero uno cartoon freak loses a priviledge: telly time.

“Dah-dee? I’m making mincemeat,” Pudd’ng shows me some papier-mâché stuff she’s ‘cooked’.

Aha. Blackout. She lost today’s priviledge, and she’s turned the bedroom floor into a kitchen. The ‘mincemeat’ looks like horse droppings.

But I ditch my king and unleash my inner kid: pretending I’m scarfing down the horse droppings…er, hors d’oeuvres.

Me? I’m dying to see images of our new Prezzo playing children’s games with the First Family. Keeping it real, there’s a kid in every king, and sometimes that kid humanises the king.

Accessible pair of heartstrings

Gang, I’m not there yet but I’m teaching myself to turn off stuff when Pudd’ng wants my attention. Which is hard if you’re a footie freak watching a derby; or you’re a stressed-out columnist working your fingers to the bone to beat a looming deadline.

The ‘attention lines’ are drawn: Sometimes it’s Pudd’ng’s homework versus a rewrite on an article. And at times it’s just lazy old me being just lazy old me versus baby girl’s insistence that I babysit her doll.

Come to think of it, I’m sure if Jesus had bodyguards for disciples, those poor children wouldn’t have got to him. Not until after the second coming. Here’s hoping our newly-elected president will be a child-friendly accessible guy.

Smiley pair of lips

There is no shortage of laughter in a house with children; especially if the children are allowed to be children.

On weekends, Tenderoni allows Pudd’ng to bathe herself. Today when mom goes to check daughter, she shrieks. “Who told you to wash your hair with Dettol?”

You could’ve heard a Dettol surd fall in that bathroom… before I burst out laughing. I’m told washing braids is the eighth hairdressing sin.

Check out Obama’s ‘hair cam’ in 2007 and 2012; from jet black to salt and pepper. It was an extreme makeover. With state affairs making one to grey pretty damn quick, a stressed-out Prezzo needs light domestic moments to soothe his frayed follicles.

Here’s my advice to our incoming leader: Three child-induced laughs a day – morning, noon and night - will help keep State House greys at bay.