I’m a grown-up. I can vote. I buy lager in pubs. I pay bills, and sometimes, if I go for a meal with my parents, I offer to pay and actually mean it rather than doing that faking-it thing that sustained me in the past. I’m 36 years old, so I’ve been an adult for as long as I was ever not an adult.

Anything anyone’s allowed to do, I should be allowed to do. But, somehow, my 22-month-old daughter can do way more than me. It just doesn’t seem right. Growing up, more and more freedom was promised the older and taller I got (the latter only really applied to fairgrounds, but these things are important) – but now, a tiny person a fraction of my age can get up to all kinds of stuff that is just not on the cards for me.

I don’t necessarily want to do them, but it hurts knowing I can’t.

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Live Rent-Free

The gall of this. We only live where we live because we needed space for our daughter to run around in – and she doesn’t chip in a penny. In fact, since becoming fascinated by both pockets and “shiny money”, she regularly demands some of my hard-earned cash to carry around, which ends up Christ knows where by the end of the day. It took me far too long to realise that a 2p coin was just as valuable to her as a £2. I want the best for her, obviously, so I was giving her the best coin (the £2 coin is looks like a pirate’s doubloon), but she probably can’t have any birthday presents now – I’m broke.

Nap In The Middle Of The Day

I don’t ever get to do this – I’m always either working or looking after a dang toddler, but she gets it built into her day. The nice people at nursery, which even though it costs us money is the closest thing she has to a job, just let her lie on the ground and nod off for two hours or so. I want to do that. When it’s sunny, I want to drink three tins of Kronenbourg and have a nap in the grass, but apparently things like that are “irresponsible” and mean I don’t “earn money”.

Go To Sleep In The Pub

I’ve done this in the past, sure, but there have always been repercussions (or general tellings-off). Not only does she face no consequences whatsoever if this happens, we even sometimes wheel her into the pub while she’s asleep. I’d love someone to do that to me, but I can’t even think of where I’d begin requesting such a thing.

Be Crap At Things, But Still Get Praised

I am a freelance journalist, which means I spend a lot of time getting rejected. I have ideas, I get in touch with people about them, and they tell me they’re rubbish. She, on the other hand, gets told whatever she does is brilliant. Draw a bunch of squiggles on a piece of paper? Amazing! Go down the stairs on her tummy? What a clever girl! I’m not saying she’s not amazing or clever – she is both so amazing and so clever – but it might be nice if people told me I was clever too sometimes, god damn it.

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Make Outrageous, Personal Demands

My daughter is entertained by certain bodily functions, and has started making demands of me like: “Daddy! Fart please.” I do my best to accommodate her requests, but I can’t always do it. I am not a machine. How can anybody demand that of someone, though? I wouldn’t dream of asking someone to fart, let alone someone 35 years older than me. If I approached a 71-year-old – Sven-Göran Eriksson, for example, or Andrew Lloyd Webber – and demanded they expel gas for me, I would be taken into custody.

Soil Herself And Expect Someone Else To Deal With It

I live with my decisions and take responsibility for my actions. If I make a mess, I tidy it. If I forget an umbrella, I get wet. If I were to go to the toilet upon myself, I would absolutely be the person to then wash whatever I had done from my body. Not her, though – she just does whatever she wishes and waits for some mug (myself, my wife, one of the nursery teachers) to come along and sort her dirtiness out. She just says “poo poo” and someone helps.

Run Around Naked Singing Songs About Her Bum

She’s started swapping words into songs she knows, and did “Twinkle Twinkle Little Bum” the other day. She’s also prone to running around with no clothes on. Now, when she does all this, it’s absolutely adorable. She’s a tiny little toddler with a smile that makes me cry and a voice that makes me, well, keep crying. But, again, it’s one rule for her and another for me. If I run around naked singing about my bottom, nobody is impressed, even though my singing voice has really improved recently.

Walk Around Wearing Cute Kid Pyjamas

THEY’RE NOT BIG ENOUGH FOR MY ASS, THE ASS OF A FULLY-GROWN MAN.