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Before I get to the main story, I thought I'd perhaps indicate what a handful the little tyke was.
The shortened version of this incident is from the week after his 5th birthday:
I had gone over as I had been away with work at the time. I parked at 'the back bit' where there was space and walked through the back garden to gain entry via the kitchen. I could hear him chatting away but I couldn't see him.
I still don't know to this day why I looked up. There he was sitting on the roof speaking to the blackbirds / crows / whatever, they were huge and black and cawing back at him. He had clambered through the skylight window of the spare room. As we say in Glasgow "I nearly died a death".
I'll spare you the long version of what happened next other than me dashing in, grabbing dad by the scruff of his shirt saying "He's on the roof! Get out there in case he falls but do NOT shout up at him" as I threw my shoes off to hare up the stairs to get him in.
I couldn't fit through the skylight, I just had to lean out as far as I could, stretch, grab and pull. He was quite indignant about being dragged in by his shirt as the birdies were apparently telling him about their day.
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So........ here goes:
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I'm not in the closet as such, quite comfortable with my 'needs' and - verifications aside (ha ha) - who I rumble with is 'tween me and them. I go on the scene, or should I say WENT on the scene, in fact I worked on the scene for years up until 2017 or so (and still miss it dreadfully) and if I am in the mood to ogle a man without risking a smack in the gob, I toddle along to the sauna. I just don't parade it.
Whilst it is never talked about, people at work know. When my partner died very suddenly years ago, whilst referring to it as "the death of your friend", the company moved heaven and earth to make sure I had the time off to make arrangements to see to things, for which I will always be grateful.
Of course I've had hiccups, who hasn't?, including my Personal Trainer dumping me unceremoniously when I came out to him in a quiet moment. I told myself he was offended at me adding I didn't fancy him in the slightest.
I became very good friends and confidant to one of the many straight staff on the scene once it was established I did NOT go where there was no interest. In fact I introduced him to his other half. I'm also happy to report, he loves my massages. Lets me kiss his shoulders and run my stubble down his spine.
And so it was when she popped out kids 1 and 2, I was honorary uncle and baby sitter.
Number 2 was conceived one long weekend they went away - anniversary present from me - leaving me in sole charge of number 1. The fact that mummy phoned 19 times wasn't to my mind an indicator of their confidence in me.
Because mum, dad and I spoke to them all the time, Number 1 was a right chatter box with quite a vocabulary on him by the time he was five, and quite a sponge. He was probably 5Live's youngest fan.
And so it was I bumped in to Dad, Number 1 and the 18month old in Sainsburys. I hadn't seen them but number 1 called me out
"Hey you. Just walk right past us why don't you".
I turned startled.
"Hey guys", I beamed.
The 18 month old grizzled and held his arms out, demanding to be handed to me which was promptly done. Dad didn't look too good. I speculated hungover.
"Just the guys today?" I queried.
"Yes", confirmed Number 1, "Mummy's at home crying. She's upset at losing the baby"
"OH !" I said, looking at dad. He gave me a small shrug. His not looking too good explained.
"But it's quite fine, daddy found him" continued the blabbergob pointing at his brother.
"Oh !" I said again - for what turned to be the second of the umpteenth time - not really understanding his train of thought.
Trying to change the subject I asked
"Do you have everything you came for?"
"Not yet" he answered, "we have to get flowers for mummy but we lost the nappies, they f*cking moved them the c*nts, but daddy eventually found them".
Daddy bristled.
Hastily, not wanting a scene in the middle of Sainsburys, I chimed in
"It's as well daddy is good at finding things!".
Hmmm, I didn't want a scene. Little did I know what was coming my way with the simple statement about how good daddy was at finding things.
"Yes it is" he agreed and then his wee face brightened up as he made a leap of logic only a five year old could about daddy being great at finding things:
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"Maybe he can find you a MAN!" he announced triumphantly.
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"Oh!" I said, yet again whilst feeling umpteen eyes on me.
"Uh huh", he said "mummy was just saying the other day, it's time you stopped faffing about and moved past getting your ass pumped by that married man when his wife is at work, find yourself someone to call your own and bring him round to dinner".
"Oh!" I said yet again. I was losing count.
I cast dad a raised eyebrow. He returned a confused "Where did he get THAT" look which was wrecked when the wee tyke added
"Didn't she daddy? Just the other day, the one before this one".
Daddy at least had the decency to blush.
I heard someone tut and mutter "Honest to God!" loudly. I fought the instinct to turn and take them on.
"Get over yourself" might have been my starting point. The 18month old distracted me by patting my face and giggling as he tried to put his hand in my mouth.
Dreading what else might tumble out, I said,
"I'd better not keep you back. Tell mummy I said hello and I'll be in touch soon" quite pleased I managed to make it sound like a threat. Daddy sort of smiled.
I handed the youngest back. He screamed the place down.
"Oh for f*ck sake" snorted number 1, "here we go again".
That was it!
"You !", I said firmly, "you know fine well that is not a word for children. If I hear you saying it again I swear I will smack your bum so hard it will fall off"
He looked at me shocked and burst in to tears
"You go to hell", he scream/sobbed, "I HATE you. Don't bother your arse coming to dinner, you OR your friend Dorothy"
"Suits me", I said, "means I don't have to take you to the park next week OR McDonalds".
His wails increased in volume as did his brother's.
"Thanks for nothing" snarled dad, the first words he had said since we met.
I did feel bad about sending dad to the checkout with two screaming children. Honestly! 
Junior eventually broke free and ran back to me in tears and hugged my legs.
"Awwww" chimed two ladies.
"Me sorry" he sobbed
"You mean **I'm** sorry", I instinctively corrected.
"Whatever", he said
I crouched down to his level and kissed his forehead.
"Get!" I said, "Daddy's waiting".
I stood up and watched him toddle back. His brother was watching me. I made tickling gestures with my fingers and pretend walk-towards-him. He screamed in delight and wriggled. Dad nearly dropped him!
I waved them both out, multiple times, as they exited. I was **still** feeling half of Sainsbury's was looking at me. Dad didn't turn around.
I waited 10 minutes and text'd dad a "Sorry" and mum a "Bumped in to the guys. Mega Hugs."
Dad txt'd back:
"It's OK. We still love you. See you next week for the park. Still tittering. Fair cheered me up. Can't wait to tell her indoors".
Oh well, I was useful for something other than babysitting and massage
Dad has asked me recently if he can send in a toned down version to Simon Mayo's "Confessions" on Greatest Hits Radio. I haven't said "yes" yet. I think I'll ask for editorial pre-approval
Oh....... and to save anyone asking, she subsequently popped out numbers three and four and not twins. Randy little sod 
Boys again.
I said to her "People who indulge, bulge".
I loved having them for 'sitting' and trips but it was always good to hand them back!
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