10 Things I've Learned as a Parent This Week #27

1.Nothing will shit you up like hearing SUDDEN silence from the room the kids are in.

2.I'd rather be trapped in a lift with Katie Hopkins than go to Asda on a Saturday afternoon with a double buggy. Hell on Earth.

3.The period when your baby suddenly becomes mobile but you haven't childproofed anything yet is terrifying.

4.Nothing makes you feel more like a dad than going the tip on a Saturday.

5.If my lads and their Weetabix would've been on the Titanic they could've fixed the leak, easy.

6.Our house is never more than 3 minutes away from total carnage.

7.A soft play area, miles from home, is no place to be when your son has leaked and you've forgotten the wipes.

8.A baby will consider you leaving the room without them on a par with war crimes.

9.Whoever let Postman Pat fly a fucking plane this week should be shot in the face.

10.Hearing the twins happily babbling to each other makes everything else in the world seem completely insignificant.

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Comments

marta larkin said…

A standout amongst the most imperative things that you ought to learn as a guardian is the manner by which to comprehend your youngster. You have to realize that your kid has a one of a kind identity that will stay for whatever is left of his or her life. By watching your kid as they play, eat or even rest you can get a comprehension of your youngster and the creating identity.

16 April 2016 at 06:53

The Time I Screamed at my Kids

Before my kids arrived I swore I’d never shout at them. But choosing how to approach parenthood before your kids are born is like a caterpillar deciding what kind of butterfly they’re gonna be while they’re still building the cocoon. ‘I’ll still do loads of charity work, of course. And I’ll be REALLY nice to moths too, even though they’ll probably hate me because I’ll be so bloody gorgeous.’ Theory and reality are like sugar and shit. I’ve raised my voice to my kids more times than I can count. Often just to shout ‘STOP SHOUTING!’ which I’m aware doesn’t set a great example. ‘You should NEVER shout at your kids.’ And that’s fine. In theory. Because everything’s fine in theory. The Slimfast diet is a piece of piss until day two when you’ve had three hours sleep and someone offers you a Wagon Wheel. Of course, I never WANT to shout at them. I love them more than words can describe. But those you love are also the ones blessed with the innate ability to boil your piss q

The Time I Smeared Shit on the Duvet

My wife and I developed our parenting systems through trial and error. One of the earliest rules we’d introduced was that if it was after 5am and one of the babies became unsettled, we wouldn’t waste our time trying to get them back down in their cot - we’d just bring them in with us. After a nice cuddle in our bed, they’d normally settle back down, barring the occasional impromptu fanny gouge or affable bollock kick. (Babies are the most violent sleepers on the planet, easily capable of committing GBH in the middle of reaching for their dummy.) Our twins were six months old. I was fast asleep. At least, the deepest sleep you can get once your kids arrive. My pre-kids sleep used to be the nocturnal equivalent of deep sea diving. Nowadays I’m lucky if I can submerge my toes in a puddle. Early on, my sleep was lighter than a Ryvita biscuit who’d been having it off with a helium canister they’d met on Tinder. Everything woke me up. Some nights I’d just lie there, bewi

The Time I Got Sent to the Naughty Step

The naughty step is only as powerful as the child allows it to be. I once sent my son there and 20 seconds later he came racing through the living room on his fucking bike. I briefly tried to return him to his pleasantly carpeted penitentiary but I was far too busy giggling. On another occasion, my lad wouldn’t go to bed and instead plonked himself down on the bottom of the stairs in defiance. I started to threaten him with a trip to the dreaded step of naughtiness. ‘IF YOU DON’T GET TO BED RIGHT NOW, I’ll, erm….’ I tailed off as I realised he was already sitting on the effing naughty step and my threat now made less sense than Welsh hip-hop. I could see on his little face, he’d worked this out too. He threw me a smirk that said, ‘You’ll do what, knobhead?’ I felt it crucial not to back down. So I continued: ‘I’LL PUT YOU ON THE NAUGHTY STEP, YOUNG MAN!’ ‘But I’m already on it!’ he snorted. My brain turned to scrambled egg. ‘WELL THEN!’ I had nothing. Bu

Sam Avery

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