Dads? Never had much use for 'em
A story my dad tells about the joys of being a father to a small me. Wavy lines:

Imagine us walking through the park together, hand in hand. A bearded philosopher in his mid-thirties with his first child, a blond, blue-eyed two-year-old skipping along beside him. She (me) stops, looks up at him with those big blue eyes and informs him:

"You're old my Daddy. You're ugly my Daddy."

Twenty-three years later I still haven't lived that one down. And somehow it always comes up when I need a loan.
(WordsMeanThings, Sun 28 Nov 2010, 10:30, 3 replies)

One of life's saddest moments
is when your own child points out your failings without any hint of malice. My youngest has mentioned once or twice how she still loves me even though I am 'baldy'.
( number5 has been fighting tramps and losing., Sun 28 Nov 2010, 11:25, closed)

^What she said.
I don't do rollercoasters, and when we went to Alton Towers recently and my mum bought a bunch of sugar lollies for the kids, on helping him unwrap it and failing due to a conspiracy of sellotape, my nephew told me "Uncle Vagabond you're rubbish - you won't go on the rollercoaster and now you can't even open a lollipop."

Fucker changed his mind once his head was in the bin, mind.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Mon 29 Nov 2010, 11:13, closed)

Treat 'em mean, eh?
Nothing like a half eaten burger and the end of a used ketchup sachet stuck in your collar for reminding you to respect your elders and betters! Mind you I reckon children's services are monitoring me already so I have to be careful which bins I can put them in.
( number5 has been fighting tramps and losing., Tue 30 Nov 2010, 18:42, closed)