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This is a question Helicopter Parents

Back when young ScaryDuck worked in the Dole office rather than simply queuing in it, he had to deal with a claimant brought in by his mum. She did all the talking. He was 40 years old.

Have you had to deal with over-protective parents? Get your Dad to tell us all about it.

(, Thu 10 Sep 2009, 15:13)
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Just when you think your parents where alright.
Theres me laughing at you lot when this memory comes back to haunt me :-/

When I was about 14, I went on holiday to the west country somewhere with my family. I wish I could remember more details but I spent most of the holiday in a bored and numbed haze.
Until one day we ended up at a market.
Mooching around and being utterly bored I happened upon a wizened old country type fella selling a mixture of belts, wallets and a rather smart collection of pocket knives.
They were probably mostly for show, but they looked kinda cool and were only about five pounds (well within my budget). I thought I could have all sorts of jolly fun carving sharp sticks and throwing it at trees.
I picked out one that looked a bit like a hunting knife in a leather pouch, paid the man and went on my merry way.
I met up with my family and we all drove back to the holiday home, where I pulled out my knife to show everyone.
No sooner had I done that, when my (normally calm, artistic) father snatched it out of my hand and went completely ballistic.
Screaming off the top of his head and shouting at me for being "so fucking stupid" he grabbed me and my brothers and drove us back to the market.
Ranting all the way he made me show him where the market stall owner was, then proceeded to get into an angry debate with the guy, all the while pointing at me as an example of "a boy too young to be sold a knife". All the shouting had drawn a huge crowd who all stared at me while I wished for the tarmac to rise up and draw me in.
The market trader tried to be nice, but refused to refund the money and soon ended up telling my dad to piss off.
So.... My dad dragged me and my (amused) brothers to the police station where he recanted the whole thing whilst shouting into the face of the local bobby.
By this time I refused to meet anyones eyes and was trying to zone into my happy place.
An hour later we are still there and the bobby has managed to calm my dad down enough to make him understand its not illegal to sell a small pocket knife to a teenager.
Having lost his temper with everyone, my dad spent the journey back to the holiday home ranting to himself and, when we got there, threw the knife onto the floor with a muttered "cut yourself with it, see if I care".
I crept up to my room and stayed there for the rest of the day.

The next day I took the knife out into the woods to throw it at tree's and the first time I did, the cunt snapped in half >.<
(, Thu 10 Sep 2009, 19:05, Reply)

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