Being a father to two is a full time job. You think it’s just going to be a case of not screwing up but really it’s the level of not screwing up that you have to account for. Example: When burning your hand on a toaster you are not allowed to scream “FUCK!” at the top of your voice as this will then be repeated to other adults in every socially unacceptable situation.
(Where the fuck are my fucking werther’s originals Grandma, Fuckety Fucking fuck fuck)
You haven’t experienced embarrassment until your child screams “DOUBLE BOLLOCKS!” at the top of their lungs in a checkout queue at Tesco. The only option you have there is to feign some kind of seizure and hope everyone forgets your spawn’s faux pas while the paramedics lift you out of a pool of your own sick.
Now in that situation you haven’t damaged your child in any way, you haven’t abused or neglected them. You haven’t left them around the medicine cabinet after describing your anti psychotic medication as “Daddy’s special sweeties” what you’ve done is exclaimed loudly after damaging your own body, yet you have created an image in the little angels’ minds that they are now also allowed to say that word.
(Today I learned some new words with Daddy so now I’m off to see my cunting friends and their bastard parents)
You don’t want to set that kind of example for your kids you want them to look up to you like some kind of hero or God. I’ve tried replacing swear words with food items but that led to me shouting out “Goddam fucking biscuits!” outside an Aldi when my car got rear ended.
So now I just try my best not to swear in front of them, it’s a struggle especially when they have some kind of magnet attached to their elbows that forces them into my groin when I’m lying on the sofa.
(Oh blimey! Cor you really got me there! Right in the macaroons! Oh boy does that sting, gosh golly am I going to be aching for a week. Excuse me while I go and throw up)
My youngest has just been given a helmet, knee pads and wrist guards so today I am going shopping for a sports cup.