I failed the single man’s dad test.

As featured online @ Daily Telegraph on 8 December 2015

Insecurities. We’ve all got them, right? Well, here is one of mine. I’m worried I’m not going to make a good dad.

My younger (more fortunate) brother has already found the love of his life, married her and had a child. His name is Jagger.

Well the younger bro has kindly allowed me to use Jagger as the puppet model child for my dad test.

With my life scarce of young children, I’m eager to find out how capable I am and can be.

Younger bro speaks of just a few of the responsibilities I must undertake. I am to feed, walk, bathe and play toys with this 18-month old. It is but just a small example of the role a dad plays but if I can’t do this, my insecurities will be justified, and I really don’t want them to be.

As Hemingway did in his novels, it’s important to present a strong setting.

This story starts on the Sunshine Coast (strong enough?) and it’s time for breakfast. Only thing is, I have to go and buy it.

“He likes apples,” hints his Nanna (who looks far too young to be a Nanna. Love you Ma!).

He’s only got six teeth so I’m thinking Granny Smiths are out of the equation.

I go with apple and pear puree, which sounds delicious and by the look of the way of he plays with it in his high chair, it must be.

I try the airplane with the spoon but it confuses him. He gives me a look of “just land the plane in my mouth already”. So I do, and then it’s time for the beach.

I loved building sandcastles as a kid. But Jagger runs off uninterested. I finish the castle and go and pick him up again so we can stand on it and crush it together, but as we get closer he bursts into tears. I fear he’s not that keen on hanging out with me but his mum reveals “he’s scared of the crashing waves. Our beach at home is flat.”

How did I not think of this? So far … not so good.

We decide to go for a walk to look for crabs and play with a tennis ball. I shamelessly use the uncle-with-cute-nephew tactic to say hello to two girls sunbaking — I’m single here, remember.

We stop about five metres from the girls and I give him my instructions.

“Take the tennis ball over and ask the two nice girls if they want to play with us. Tell them your uncle (I say this a bit louder than the rest) is really bad at the game, and you want someone good to play with.”

Both girls are very kind. Sadly for me, they find Jagger cute and me not so much. Sadly for me, they’re both engaged.

“How many crabs did you find?” asks younger bro, clearly aware that we didn’t look for crabs at all.

“They were both engaged,” I reveal.

“And probably both keen for you to get the hell away from them,” adds Jagger’s mum. “He’s filled his nappy.”

Woah — hold up. This is a pivotal moment. One that isn’t missed by the little man’s parents as they look fixedly at me. I look back at them. They look back at me. I look back at them. They look back at me.

“I can’t do it. I can’t change his nappy. I just can’t do it.”

So far... so very bad. I’m failing.

After the beach is nap time.

Thank the Lord! But no, not for me, just him, I have to be awake when he wakes.

This is the worst part of the day. I should be stoked that I have little-to-no responsibility for a couple of hours but I’m bored out of my mind… and like Donkey from Shrek II asking “are we there yet?” I’m asking “can I wake him up yet?”

Finally he wakes, he eats some more and then it’s book time. More specifically “awesome book time with Matty”.

I used to hang out with my uncles and read the footy record or the Miller’s Guide when I was younger, but we go with The Big Noisy Book of Animals.

And it’s one he’s clearly read before, as he moos along with the cow, woofs with the dog and makes whatever noise the elephant makes when the elephant makes it.

Book time is over and then it’s playtime. We play ‘chasey.’

‘Chasey’ doesn’t last very long. I’m told it’s not the best to be winding him up with bedtime so close.

“Bedtime? He just had a two-hour nap like two hours ago? What is he a baby koala?”

The younger brother reaffirms that the next hour is absolute key to getting Jagger to sleep and therefore enjoying an uninterrupted night myself.

Wait, what? I have to get up the middle of the night if he wakes up?

The bath is the next destination. Splashing is so much fun, but less fun when you’re the one who has to mop the water off the bathroom floor.

Nanna walks in to take some photos. She’s flatly denied by her son (me) because bath photos of me as a child were put up everywhere on my 21st, but she’s able to take a quick one before exiting.

The day finishes with a walk with Jagger’s pop, his dad and me at twilight. We stop and admire a dog being walked, because he has two of those at home himself and thinks dogs are the best.

And then as I keep talking to him, he falls asleep.

We return back to the apartment and no one’s surprised to see him this way.

“Your conversations are enough to put us all to sleep,” my sister jokes.

Jagger’s mum takes him to bed and I’m left with little bro, sis, mum and dad. I’m actually kind of bummed out that I’ve failed my single man’s dad test so badly.

But my mum makes a good point: “Having a go, trying to get better at something you really want to be in the future, means you haven’t failed at all. Now go and clean all the water off the bathroom floor.”