» Helicopter Parents

Helicopter or not?
Let me turn the clock back a year or two to the induction day to the primary school for my son. I turn up with a group of other parents to listen to the class teacher explain a few things about what they will be doing, sign certain forms, learn what we need to send them to school with and look at the shiny toys they will get to play with etc etc. The whole meeting is going well until the teacher starts to wind up the whole event by asking the group “Any other questions?”. I was going to ask if I could play in the sandpit/ waterwheel combo in the corner but I totally forgot after hearing the next exchange from a certain group of mothers.


“What do we do about medicine?” Asked mum1
(Before teacher could answer she was cut off by mum 2) “Yes my girl T has to take 5 different vitamins a day and will only take them from me I will have to come in myself to give them to him”
Me: (Whispering to the wife): Is it me or has this become some kind of bidding war for craziest parent
Mum 3: What if they injure themselves will you call me I like to tend to P’s injuries myself
Teacher: Erm… only if its something major, one of the forms you filled in earlier was to allow us to administer any basic first aid such as plasters on cuts etc etc)
(Before Mum 3 can reply she is cut off by mum 1)
Mum 1: My son can only eat if you sing to him
Mum 2: Mine is allergic to milk or anything that looks like it
(Me Thinking What other drink looks like Milk? He’s not going to be fed a pot of glue is he?)
Mum 4: Ah I didn’t like to mention it here but I have to cut my sons dinner up for him (Turns out anyone else would cut it too big for him) and he still breastfeeds so I will need to arrange to come in twice a day.
(Class falls silent somewhere in my head an electronic buzzer goes off with some bloke yelling we have a winner of this years crazyparent)
Teacher: 0_0
Me: Jesus Christ (Not a good thing to say in a Church School and kind of set my reputation up for the rest of my sons primary school life)

Turns out that the breastfeeding had to stop when the kid of Mum 4 started biting her when feeding. She still goes to school at set intervals each day to cut up his dinner and to bottlefeed him with breastmilk though. He’s 8 in October.
(Tue 15th Sep 2009, 11:19, More)

» I Quit!

Quit from a non paying job
I was giving my 18 month old son his usual nighttime bath last night and decided to get in the bath with him (Believe me its like trying to handle a live fish when you try to do it at the side of the bath and I seem to get less water on me when I'm actually in the tub). After the initial wash, rinse and piss about with various kiddie toys floating in the tub I decided to wash my hair too by submerging my head underwater while sonny boy played with his water wheel attached to the bath.

One of the things I usually do when bathing my son is come up for air showing only my head and yell "Boo!" at him (this may sound stupid but he's 18 month old so its comedy gold for him). Last night was different. I pulled my head back above water ready to yell boo and looked up, mouth agape at the sight before me. My son was stood there evil smil across his chops and aiming his cock at my face......what followed can only be described as a mad rush to escape the bath and my own piss filled mouth yelling "ARGHWHATTHEHELLYOULITTLESOD!!!!!"

I told my missuis that I had quit the job as kid washer shortly after brushing my teeth so hard that my gums bled.
(Fri 23rd May 2008, 11:31, More)

» School Projects

Yessss!
I was waiting for a topic like this to come up after my visit to my sons parents evening at the end of last term.

As we were shown the pile of information the teacher was explaining to us the latest class project that they had just finished to create a perfect village using a mixture of papier-mâché, cereal boxes, yoghurt pots,plastic bottles etc etc.

“You can probably guess which one was designed by your son” replied the teacher in a sarcastic tone(We haven’t really seen eye to eye since the dream diary incident I mentioned in a previous QOTW reply)

Looking at the village I was thinking, does she mean the school that’s has shcool written on? Maybe the post office that’s looking deformed…..ah

I had found it

In the middle of the picturesque village with a playground, post office, shcool and swimming baths was a volcano lair, complete with bottle top glass dome, matchbox gun turrets, partially painted airstrip and yoghurt pot deathtraps for would be intruders- this must have taken him ages to complete and I will say that I was impressed.

Unlike my wife who pretended to be shocked at the whole thing I asked the teacher if it would be coming home with him over the summer (I was planning on adding a few pipe cleaner-skeletons on the beach for him during my week off).

The bad news is that the island won’t be coming back to my house until September as its being used for some schoolwide project that’s due to be shown sometime after school re-starts.

I will probably pass on a few more “creative plans" for his island before he goes back.

I love being a dad.
(Thu 13th Aug 2009, 16:11, More)

» Helicopter Parents

I’m a helicopter parent
Or that’s what other parents think of me when I go chasing after my young uns when we go to kids parties in buildings with a play area.

The truth is that I would rather charge over the squishy shapes and go play in the ball pool than spend an hour listening to the other parents sit round and bullshit about whos kid is the best, what clubs they are in, how the kid can speak latin etc etc

My wife says I’m antisocial, I say I have the mental age of a 7 year old.
(Fri 11th Sep 2009, 15:14, More)

» The Dark

Being a dad of 3 I am used to stumbling around in the dark with night time trips for a baby bottle, nappies etc etc.
During one night time feed when the youngest was teething I was up almost every night that became so frequent I hardly used the lights at all (Both in the house and also mentally). On the night in question I did my usual motion of calming the kiddie down and then went downstairs to the kitchen and made up a bottle for him to drink.

I popped back upstairs and saw something come out of my son’s bedroom. It was bigger than my kid, about my size nearly and like the true big hard Yorkshire bloke that I am I let out a scream, waking up most of the household.

The figure (which turned out to be my wife) switched the light on and then proceeded to bullock me for making the noise. It turned out that while I was downstairs she had woken up and gone to check up on the baby, which was a surprise in itself as my wife has the same response as most long term coma patients after falling asleep.

“What the hell was that for Mon? Why were you screaming?” she asked me

“Sorry” came my semi asleep reply “I thought you were a monster”

I was in the doghouse for a while after that comment.
(Thu 23rd Jul 2009, 16:13, More)