Bad Dad

The other night I read a rather erstwhile blog about parenting. I seek out these things for the same reason I watch the news; to have something to shout at. This particular blogger said "There are no right ways to bring up children, but there are lots of wrong ways." This is an undeniable fact. They then went on to explain why the way they parented was THE RIGHT WAY (that was the point I started shouting.)

"Your children should be allowed to be whomever they want to be and shouldn't worry what other people think about them," the blog continued. This is a noble and right-minded way of bringing your children up. Only the insane would argue otherwise. However I've had Kids for five years now, and as the old joke goes "Insanity is heredity, you get it from your children." So I'm going to bloody well argue.

Yes, its a brilliant idea, right up until your three year old daughter won't stop crapping in her knickers and you find yourself saying "The other kids at school will think you're smelly and horrible." I said exactly these words only today. 

Clearly the author of this blog hasn't realised that my Kids are evil, and their evil is contagious. I'm not parenting, I'm in a battle of wits and I'm bloody losing.

This morning I was in a bit of a rush because I was taking them to see my mum. Typically this involved the Girl throwing an industrial grade, biblical epic of a tantrum. Lots of rolling on the floor, scratching, screaming,   trails of snot, hair stuck to her purple face. What I like to call "The full English Breakfast Tantrum." She was still throwing a tantrum when I crammed her into the car. Anyone who has every tried to get an angry child into a car seat will attest, its like getting an eel into a jar. First they go rigid as a board, which makes it absolutely impossible to get them into the seat. Fortunately I managed to get past this first line of defence by sticking a wet finger in her ear (another good tactic is to blow a raspberry on her tummy, but you risk losing your glasses - if not an eye). Then, if you get as far as getting the straps over their arms they squirm them free and try to scratch you. And if - like the Girl - they are particularly committed they somehow manage to kick you in the genitals. Which she did just as my next door neighbour came out. I find people don't get eye contact with you any more when they've seen a three year old girl beat you up.

When I finally arrived at my mum's house and got out the car, the Boy did what he always does. He undid his seatbelt and jumped on the driver's seat, leading to the following conversation

"Boy! Get off my seat, you've put muddy footprints on it!"

"Sorry."

"When we arrive somewhere, stay in your seat and get out of the car."

"Ok..." (Pause) "Hang on, I can't get out of the car if I'm still in the seat."

"No, I mean..."

"Do you mean I have to take the seat out too?"

"No. I don't know what I mean anymore."

"Well how am I supposed to know??"

Wiseass. He does this to me a lot. 

"I'm four, but my friend James is only three."

"Oh, right. When is he four?"

(As if to a fool) "On his BIRTHDAY."

Once we'd left my mum's house, leaving a trail of discarded toys, hand prints and snot stains on the carpet the Boy decided it was his turn go postal. This time it was because he didn't want the Girl to have a turn on a video game he was playing. When I handed the Girl the controller he went from Oliver Twist to Jason Vorhees, punched the Girl in the chest and then tried to bite her. 

Now the reason I say their evil is contagious is because an hour later I went outside to put the chickens to bed, and they threw a tantrum. So I found myself trapped in a chicken run re-enacting a scene from Jurassic Park as they ganged up on me. I literally have no dignity left. When I finally disentangled myself I saw the Boy at the window, crying with laughter and when I opened the back door he said

"That was brilliant! Do it again!"

As such, I've taken a parenting approach I call "Getting the revenge in beforehand." At some point in the near future the Boy will lose his first milk tooth. When this happens, we'll do what most parents in the western world do and put it under his pillow for the tooth fairy. When the Boy wakes up the next morning he will find a five pound note and a letter. We'll read the letter to him. It will say

Dear Boy,

thank you for your tooth. Here is five pounds. 

The Tooth Fairy.

P.S. I WILL BE BACK FOR THE REST TONIGHT.

Oh, by the way, if you don't know, this is Jason Vorhees.

The Boy