The case of the terrible twos

Monday the 7th of November

I understandably haven’t been allowed out of Carolyn’s sight since the case of the waving guard. The past week has been mainly me massaging her feet and grovelling which, has tamed her temper a little. Today I was afforded a trip to the shops on one proviso; I take Astrid.

This is no problem. Since arriving in Thailand I have taken great pride in spending more time with her, she is at the exciting age where everyday she seems to attain more skills and words, however, her new lust for enlightenment does come with a trying side; most parents refer to it as the terrible twos, I call it ‘the twat year’.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not calling my daughter a twat, just that sometimes she can act a bit twatty. For example this morning, after her not eating her breakfast and refusing to wear her school shoes we were late for school. We set off and were making good time, she then says, “Daddy… today is Tuesday” to which I say, “No darling today is Monday” she says “Wednesday?” I say “No darling, Monday” she screams “TUESDAY… TUESDAY… WEDNESDAY. TUEDAY!!” she then began to roll on the floor continuing to yell Tuesday, or Wednesday. It took me 35 minutes to calm her down and get her to school, even handing her over to the teachers she was sobbing Tuesday, or Wednesday. I think that’s a bit twatty.

In England I was told Astrid’s actions are borne of her parenting and seeing as I’m her Dad I feel a great responsibility in halting ‘the twat year’. I can no longer excuse her actions because of the ‘terrible two’s’, do they even exist or are we just being mugged over by clever kids? Either way with time on my hands and my detective status nullified by my wife today I decided to investigate the causes of this phenomenon.

I picked Astrid up from school at 1:30pm. She was cheerful and chatty. “How was your day?” I asked, “I did painting and played with my friends and singing and playing with my friends…” she talked most of the walk home, mainly repeating herself. Once we got back to our house I told her we were destined for the shop which Astrid loves, she carries her own basket and fills it with all sorts of odd Thai confectioneries, most of which I have to put back. We got dressed and headed out in the car. Lately Astrid has taken to rapping whilst I drive, something that can be equally endearing and annoying, based largely on the content she spits. Today was again a decent mixture of brilliance and pain but my mind was on other things.

All morning I had been racking my brain thinking of ways to accommodate the ‘two’s problem’. Solutions offered on the net cured only part of the ordeal and most insisted on remaining patient as it is only ‘a phase’. I couldn’t afford to wait, my covenant doesn’t allow for ‘everything will be fine in time’, a problem needed fixing… The answer was inevitably simple. To understand her I needed to heed at her pace, be a child with her, see things through her eyes, be a companion, a friend and do everything she says… It made for an incredible day. 

Once we arrived at the shops I decided to start my technique. I wouldn’t ask Astrid what she wanted to do or force her into a choice, I would simply follow her and do as she said. It took 15 minutes to get from the car park to the shop entrance, it should have taken 1. She studied certain car badges, “Daddy, this your car?”

“Nope” I’d reply

“This your car?”

“Nope”

“This your car? Robot at my party”. She began making robot noises and moving like a robot. I joined her. It lasted until she spotted toys in the entrance of the supermarket.

“Daddy, get my toys”, she hurriedly said as she rushed towards the store. Following, I was surprised by her awareness of other cars and the threat they posed - I didn’t have to intervene once as she dodged the obstacles to the toy department safely. We played with probably every toy in there for about an hour until she wanted to go elsewhere.  We briefly entertained the idea of actually shopping for groceries and things needed but settled for ice cream instead.

“Daddy I want to see flipping big golden Buddha?” asked Astrid once she had finished her ice cream. True to my word we moved on; it took a further 20 minutes to get back to the car due to various distractions, my favourite of which was Astrid talking to a small Thai boy about robots at her party which in turn lead to the three of us making robot noises and moves. The parents of the small boy were most confused but felt compelled to join in also. So the five of us just danced and made robot noises for a while.

The ‘flipping big golden Buddha’ Astrid made reference to is a landmark and tourist attraction just outside Pattaya. The Thais chopped a mountain in half and lazered a gold outline of Buddha -  it’s quite a bizarre spectacle but one of Astrid’s favourite places. Upon arrival she sang loud songs about Buddha and couldn’t wait to get out and make haste to the viewing field. I didn’t stop her. Watching as she made determined strides I realised that I was happy, really happy. A normal day with Astrid has about nine warnings before school – ‘put that soap down, NO, not that one, please sit down so I can put your socks on, SHOES, You’ve already had a yogurt, go to the toilet please, just have a piss!’ – today was simple, yes, going at her pace was neither convenient or productive but I was yet to regret failing to warn her about any of her actions; she was behaving amicably.

I figured I had solved parenting, solved ‘the twat year’. It was easy. Go at their pace, guide them without forcing situations, teach them morals in a way they understood, be a friend. I had learnt something from her today, this was a breakthrough and I was buoyed by its brilliance.

“Flipping Golden big Buddha Daddy… get my up?” she wanted me to get her to the top of the mountain. It was impossible, there were no steps or easy pathways and I had no climbing harnesses. I took her as far as civilians were allowed. “Golden Buddha, reach, reaccchhh”. Her arms stretched out, she pleaded with me to take her further. Who am I? - Mega Dad. What do I do? - I get it done.

I held Astrid as tight as I could and she clung on equally, I began to climb. It wasn’t easy, certainly with Astrid in tow, but I soon found my groove and before I knew it we were 200ft up – about half way. During the ascent Astrid sang songs of joy and I accompanied her when I could. Her face was the portrait of exuberance, a smile barely leaving her lips, a silence never fetching her lungs, we were one; father and daughter climbing the Buddha mountain.

As the sun went down we graced the summit and it was beautiful. Astrid was placid and as appreciative of the beauty as a sensitive teen. I on the other hand was knackered. The peak was kind and had a small shelf we could rest safely and I sat down to try and recover some energy- the view helped. We could see for miles around, the unique light omitted from a sunset illuminated the picture perfectly; it was stunning. We were in a stupor.

“Look Daddy, there’s Mummy.”

“Huh – What? Mummy?” I snapped from my trance. It was unlikely - however good Astrid’s eyesight was – the school was 30 miles from Buddha Mountain, but, it is my role to play along so I didn’t question her.

“Look, down there, Daddy, its Mummy, Daddy, down there, look!”

“Oh yeah, we’re so high” I’d play along.

Then, interrupting our tranquil scene was a familiar but exaggerated sound, the noise of helicopter rotors. This was exciting, as Astrid loves all things fly.

“Look Astrid, a helicopter!” lost in the clatter but yelled all the same. Astrid of course had spotted it and was turning in an animated flurry making certain I too was enjoying the scene. I didn’t dawn on me why it was so close to the mountain until the searchlight turned to us and fixed. I looked down and swarms of people, trucks and reporters had gathered in the car park. Where they there because of us? Oh.

I began to shout a plea of reassurance and innocence but it was no use, the chopper was too close and the rotors sucked up my voice. A search light from the ground then positioned itself on us from the right and soon after another from the left.  Shortly after a male voice overcame the chopper racket via a megaphone. It was in Thai and although my Thai has come on it isn’t yet good,  therefore the voice may as well have been talking duck. I needed to tell them everything was okay so I began to signal for the chopper to leave, after a while and a command from the megaphone man the chopper left – Astrid had fallen asleep. I began my plea.

The rest of the story I shall tell from the view of others as it makes more sense

Carolyn first heard of my ascent when a Thai member of staff ran into her classroom and breathlessly broke “Your husband, huh, huh, he’s on news, Buddha Mountain, he’s got hostage, climbing Buddha Mountain!” Carolyn found a TV set and tuned in. Sure enough there I was climbing the Mountain clutching on to Astrid. Carolyn as expected flung into action, burrowed the neighbours’ car and headed directly for us. She says she was petrified, “What the fuck is he doing? I’m gonna kill him” she screamed as she thumped everything.

Meanwhile whilst I was ignorantly ascending, a frenzy of activity was gathering in the car park below. Press arrived within minutes and began to tout the story as a hostage situation, as Carolyn saw. Soon they twisted it into a Terrorist attack recalling Taliban’s actions in Jordan. The army were called in, choppers were dispatched and a negotiator sent for. How I didn’t notice any of this I don’t know, I was concentrating on not dropping Astrid I suppose.

Carolyn arrived and bustled her way through the barricades to the negotiator, Thai authorities are scared of angry Western woman. She tried to explain I was her husband and it must be some kind of misunderstanding but it was no use. The negotiator didn’t speak much English and Carolyn’s Thai is worse than mine. When they noticed I was waving the chopper away they gave the order for it to leave and waited for me to speak. I gave my plea but it fell on deaf ears. Carolyn said she could just about make me out but the negotiator wouldn’t understand me if I was stood next to him let alone 400ft up a mountain, so he asked if anyone could translate. A young spunky reporter eager for a big scoop stepped up. He boasted of his three years at Sheffield University and was then given the Megaphone. He began:

“What your demands please?”

 I was able to hear him but they struggled to hear my replies and the reporter eager to encourage mayhem filled in the blanks. I will recite the negotiations here with what I actually said without brackets and what the reporter translated with brackets.

TRANSLATOR: “Your demands please?”

ME: “I have no demands!”

(I have plans)

TRANSLATOR: “Okay, what are your plans?”

ME: “I’m just going at my daughters pace today”

(I just need a Boeing to race away)

TRANSLATOR: “Jet is on its way, just give us girl”

ME: “I don’t know what your on about, this is my daughter”

(I could go by boat but I don’t like water)

TRANSLATOR: “Just stay calm, stay calm. Hand over girl and you get what you want”

ME: “I don’t want anything, THIS IS A MISUNDERSTANDING!”

(I’ll blow up everything, I’ll BLOW UP EVERYTHING!)

TRANSLATOR: “No, NO. We get jet, be calm. We on your side”

ME: “Its fine mate I don’t need a jet, this is my daughter, we fancied a climb”

(It’s my assignment; seize a jet, put you to slaughter, the perfect crime)

TRANSLATOR: “Please tell us what you want, why do this?”

ME: “I don’t understand…?”

(I only like dry land)

TRANSLATOR: “Ok, no boat, understood”

ME:  “Astrid! She wanted to climb up here, I am not a terrorist!”

(That’s it! We want to die up here. I am Scott the terrorist!)

TRANSLATOR: “NO, Scott, NO! Put girl down, nobody needs to die!”

ME: “Its alright! Nobody will die and we are safe. Who is SCOTT?”

(It happens tonight! Everybody will die for their faith. I AM SCOTT!)

Carolyn was on the ground trying to make sense of what was happening, she couldn’t quite hear me and was shocked by what the reporter was translating. Luckily at that point she remembered we both had a phone so she rang. “What the fucks are you saying to him! You’re not a terrorist, stop telling people your going to blow them up and leave on a jet plane. You’re going to get shot!” she screamed, confused. I myself was a bit taken aback “Oh um, Love, to be honest I don’t have a clue what’s going on. I got to the top and everybody started going mental”. I managed to calm her down and explain my situation and she explained to me what was being said on the ground.

Meanwhile the police snipers had taken aim and awaited orders to fire whilst a team  were dispatched to climb the other side of the mountain and snatch Astrid. I was obviously unaware of this but Carolyn could see the snipers and climbers, she knew I didn’t have long. She rushed and found the police chief. “Chief I have him on the phone, it’s a misunderstanding, talk to him!!” she panted. This saved my life.

“Who are you?” He spoke English thank God.

“I’m his wife, he’s on the phone, speak to him!” She handed him the phone and we spoke. He was angry but I was calm and reassured him of my innocence. I convinced him well enough so that the snipers didn’t fire and the climbers  even helped us down but he still  insisted I would be brought to justice for desecrating a sacred Buddha, he was ‘horrified by my actions’.

I was taken straight to the police station and interviewed. I told them the story I have told you - it didn’t wash, they were pissed, and now three or four more officers began to make threats. I was scared, were they actually going to beat me? Prosecute me? Put me in prison? Then as if a switch had been flicked the mood turned, I was free to go.

Carolyn had remembered a chat she had with a local a few nights before when she was told that if she was in trouble - money talked. She offered a bribe of 10,000 baht, which wasn’t acknowledged. She went higher and higher and reached 50,000 when the officers began to take note. That was all we had in the bank and she couldn’t go any higher but they wanted more. We were stumped. She then recalled something I had told her a month previous, “Thai’s just love plastic bags, more than anything!” Since we arrived we have kept every bag out of habit. In England you are told to recycle and scrimp but here they double bag for a hairclip! We have a cupboard at home filled with around 10,000 of all varieties. Out of desperation Carolyn offered the bags. They snapped it up. 50,000 baht plus 10,000 plastic bags confirmed my release.

Job done. I was free, I’d figured out parenting and became a minor celebrity (albeit a terrorist celebrity). Carolyn however didn’t see the positives as clearly as I.“You were only meant to go to the shop! What is wrong with you?!” I could only shrug and agree.

Case of the ‘terrible twos’ – Solved.