Premature world weariness

It's mid-afternoon and we are in the midst of a banana pancake cookathon of epic proportions.

There is a loud rat-a-tat-tat at the door.

'Daddy!', squeal TS and TD in unison.

'I don't think it's Daddy unless he's bunking off work...', I reply.

My enthusiastic knocker is a salesman who wants to sell me a broadband connection.

'Did you receive one of these through the door?', he asks, waving a leaflet in my face.

'No...um, maybe, can't remember...'

I can smell burning bananas.

'Do you have a computer?'

'Yes...'

I can hear the scrambling of little knees on kitchen table.

'Because with our broadband service...'

'Sorry! Don't want it! My kids! The stove! Pancakes! Gotta go! Sorry!'

And off I dash.

Once resettled in their chairs, TD enquires hopefully: 'Daddy?'

'No, darling. Not Daddy,' I respond apologetically.

'Oh, people,' she sighs wistfully, casting her eyes heavenwards.

Yes, people.

[How many years did I say until teenagerhood?]