Here is a poem I wrote for the ‘Who let the dad’s out?’ conference back in June

So, who was it that let you out?

Chris Duffett © 2010

So, who was it that let you out? You know, to hang out, rest up, down time, chillax out with your kids in this place?

Was it you? With feelings of ‘should really’ or ‘daddy duty’ or ‘must spend quality time’ or get a breather in the rat race?

Or was it your sole soul mate, saying get out- I need a bit of time out, a tad me time, some P&Q time, in the house time, so go, dadio!

Or, is the answer found in the bacon butties? Saturday papers? Fellow dads to sympathies with work woe words or talk of Gerrard, Cole of Fabio?

So, who was it that let you out? ‘I did.’ A small steady still voice says. ‘It was me and I admit it, hands up, fair cop, I surrender. It’s me, the author of all release.

Yeah you guessed it; this has the finger prints all over the handy work of the one who draws and longs for us and says, ‘let me let you out. Out  into a place of peace.’

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