Super Dad
My mum had to go on a training course for a few days, over my birthday. Meaning my Dad would have to handle my birthday.
No big deal i though, since my Dad runs his own company, sorting out my birthday won't be that hard.
Wake up at 7am, rush down to see presents that Stephen Hawking would have wrapped better. Think nothing of it, as it's only wrapping paper.
Open the presents, an Action Man. BRILLIANT! It's what i asked for, except oh wait, it's one i've already got. My Dad obviously didn't realise there were more than one Action Man. A twinge of disappointment streaked through me now.
Move onto the cards, all's good. A little bit of money of grandparents and the likes, until i finally reach the last card. It reads 'Darly'. My names Daryl. Hmmm, its probably off a senile relative i think. But nope, inside "To Darly, Happy Birthday, Love Mum & Dad".

Mass tears thanks to my dad not only getting me the wrong present, but also spelling my name wrong.


Although he made up for it a few months later, when he removed the spindles on the bannister for the stairs, and left my 3 year old sister playing upstairs. Yes she did fall straight off the stairs. Yes she hurt herself. Yes i was waiting at the bottom watching her, hoping she'd fall. And yes i was absolutely laughing my tits off.


And there's the time he left an open full can of RED paint, perched ontop of the NAVY armchair, whilst me and my brother where chasing each other. And my mum was not too pleased to come home, to see a NAVY armchair, and a NAVY carpet now complete with red paint streaks all over it.
And he actually tried to blame it on me. He said "It was the kids, they were playing drums with them, and they must have hit it too hard and the lid flew off, and the paint went everywhere."

Oh yes dad, brilliant excuse, a 7yr old can hit a paint tin so hard it explodes.

I am dreading growing older, knowing i may possibly turn out like that.
(TinyDinosaur, Fri 17 Aug 2007, 9:52, Reply)