Thankfully it’s not often in my son’s life that I have let him down.
Unfortunately, Tuesday was one such occasion.
Armed with ‘VIP’ tickets obtained through my wife’s work in return for prominently displaying a promotional poster, we took Calum along to Zippos Circus.
My naivety in assuming that such gold-dust tickets would guarantee us a ringside seat – perhaps with some free popcorn thrown in – was soon cruelly exposed.
Firstly we were directed to the end of a long queue to exchange our now seemingly 10-a-penny passes for the real thing, then we were advised that the performance was sold out.
As we led Calum back to the car, I expected a tantrum, which I could just about have coped with.
But what we got was huge sobs from a three-year-old who couldn’t understand why his normally loving mummy and daddy had promised to take him to the circus, shown him the bright lights and big top ... then turned around and took him home.
I couldn’t have felt worse if you’d stamped ‘FAILED DADDY’ in big letters across my forehead.
Luckily, we managed to book for another night ... this time with normal tickets already secured!