when I was five...
I begged to be allowed to attend the school Christmas party. My Jehovah's Witness parents reluctantly agreed.

I was the one who stood up when Father Christmas came in and said, "That is the headmaster, Father Christmas does not exist!"

School asked my parents to keep me home from all future parties.
(whiskas loved by 8 out of 10 cats, Sat 19 Apr 2008, 19:28, Reply)

Rant (but not mine )
www.sickopath.com/childrenessay.html

Best bit of link:
Whenever someone wants to take a freedom away from you, they do it under the guise of protecting the children. "We must get rid of guns to protect the children. We must outlaw drugs to protect the children. We must ban violent video games and movies to protect the children. We must keep the internet clear of anything offensive to protect the children. We must eliminate everything enjoyable to protect the children". What a bunch of crap. I'm not gonna change my lifestyle because you don't want your brat exposed to certain things. You knew damn well what kind of a world this was before you brought your little dick-cheese into it, so don't start bitching about it now. All you need to do is teach your kid to stick it's head as far up it's ass as your own head is up yours, and then it won't be exposed to anything you don't like.

Edit: really really really NSFW
( willenium Fist bump for verification, Sat 19 Apr 2008, 19:24, 2 replies)

Mictoboy just reminded me
My friends are Scottish, and have a beautiful daughter. When she was learning to talk, they were teaching her how to say "Come on Scotland".
She'd always say "Come on Cunt". We were always getting her to say it in front of old crusties in the grocery store.
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Sat 19 Apr 2008, 18:39, Reply)

Out camping last Saturday night with my new fella
and a bunch of our mutual friends, as well as some of my fishing club members.
One of the team guys has a 7 year old daughter, who is absolutely adorable and a little firecracker and loves camping and fishing, so her and her dad were hanging out with us.
Now, me and new guy have been dating a while, but have just gone public among our circle of friends and were therefore all over each other Saturday night.

The little lass comes up to me and says "workboresme, is that old* guy your boyfriend?" When I answered in the affirmative, she said "ewww, I saw you kissing and was going to take a picture and have dad post it on the team website!".

Later that night, as we were all retreating into our tents, my man and I headed into ours for some much anticipated shagging**. As we lay down (not even undressed yet), a little 7 year old starts putting on an English accent "workboresme, we know what you're doing. You and the old guy are moaning and groaning. What's going on in there?"
Obviously the entire campsite burst out laughing and we couldn't do anything for fits of giggles.

*he's significantly older than me
**he's also the best sex I've ever had. Ladies, find yourselves older men!
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Sat 19 Apr 2008, 17:41, 14 replies)

Stairs
I think I've posted this before...

But.

I was looking after my son, for the first time on my own, I think and he'd not long started crawling...

It was bathtime and we had to go upstairs - so I picked up his favorite book and picked him up and off we went.

Upstairs, I put him down, put the book down - That's everything isn't it?

Um, where's the boy?

At the top of the stairs - now, how did he get there? Oh right he crawled. How cute.

Um, why can I see the open stairgate?

Why is he sat at the top of the stairs?

Oh s***, why is he falling all the way down, bouncing off each step....

There was much crying, wailing and gnashing of teeth... And that was just me.

He was ok and he had a massive red bump on his head - I was pretty panicky...

The (then) other half comes home and me and the boy are clearly upset - I tell her what happened and mentioned the big red bump that I was panicky about - Turns out the big red bump happened earlier in the day.

It took me about 2 weeks to calm down about this....
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Sat 19 Apr 2008, 17:08, Reply)

my little lad has only recently learned to talk
and for a while he did the usual mispronunciatons, you know
'felant' for 'elephant' 'dragidge' for 'garage' and 'bunts' for 'buttons'

oh yes, and 'cunts' for 'curtains' :S
( mictoboy shitting in your cunt since, Sat 19 Apr 2008, 17:06, 2 replies)

B3tans please...
Please stop talking about overpopulation as part of your choice not to breed.

The world is NOT overpopulated by Americans and Britons with the resources to see that their children are well-educated and disciplined and capable of becoming productive and contributing members of society.

The more SMART people that choose to breed, and the MORE smart children they have, the better off the world will be.

Without lots and lots of future b3tans and others of similar ilk that value sick humor and common decency, the world is headed for trouble.
(not here, Sat 19 Apr 2008, 16:45, 15 replies)

tossers.
my neice, a few years ago was attending toddlers group.

quite a few people were amused by her refering to it as "tossers"

*chuckle*
(Neomancer last looked smug on, Sat 19 Apr 2008, 15:51, Reply)

My sister
She never had a way with words.
When she was a little kid one of my mum's friends popped over for some reason. Door bell rings and my sister goes tottering off to answer it. We then hear high pitched girlish screaming as she comes blasting back through the living room door.
The look on her red chubby face was of complete terror as she screamed and pointed in the general direction of the door 'A BLACK MAN.. MUM.. THERE IS A BLAAAAAACK MAN'.

Took my mum ages to calm her down and assure her that no, he wasn't there to do whatever bad things she thought a black man would do to a six year old girl. My sister just wouldn't let my mum let him in the house.

She tended to embaress my mum alot. On holiday once we were walking back to the hotel. Her clinging on to my dads hand when an incredibly fat woman wobbled out of a doorway infront of us. Cue hysterical finger pointing and doubling up fits of laughter. My sister was rolling round on the floor shouting 'But look.. she is so wobbly..hahahaha'

She also went through a stage of telling my dad what a big condom he was.

Oh that reminds me when we got a bit older my parents thought it was time for the birds and the bees talk. My sister was in earshot for most of the conversation, i was painfully embaressed but also quite switched on about what my parents wanted to hear. They asked 'When do you think you should wait to have sex with someone?' I cleverly replied..'when your in love with someone'.

My sister then piped up with 'Just when it gets dark'.
( Threnody - Is a filthy, filthy bibliophile & you love it, Sat 19 Apr 2008, 15:27, Reply)

3-some!
Well, 3 re-posts anyway!

Many moons ago Kite Jnr, being about 3 at the time, was being very quiet, in the front room, colouring. Myself and Mrs. Kite were in the kitchen. After a bit, I decide to check on Kite Jr., who has coloured large areas of her body with dark blue felt pen "Cos I'm a Zebra Daddy". Of course you are dear, of course you are.

Bad Father
Now, in my defence, whilst I love Kite Jr dearly, I have to say all little babies look pretty much the same to me. Which explains why some years ago Mrs. Kite came into the cellar where I was working and looked at the photos I had on the wall - my folks, the dogs, someone else's child...

Im a bad bad Dad.

(a cock joke would be slightly uncomfortable after discussing children I feel)

Kite Jr again
Some weeks back, Kite Jr (7 YO) was tucked up in bed, dreaming of My Litle Ponies and other such innocent, girly subjects..when she is disturbed by "uh...uh...uh" sounds coming from Mrs. Kite, in our bedroom, with my good self causing said pleasurable moans.
Kite Jr proceeds to run down stairs (we have 3 stories), bangs loudly on parents door and shouts "Will you be quuiet Im trying to sleep and all I can hear is "Uh...uh...uh" sounds" and then runs back upstairs to bed.

She never mentioned it, and neither did we (Im not sure she knows what was occuring). but boy did we feel both embarrased and told off - by a 7 year old
(kitescreech still here, Sat 19 Apr 2008, 15:23, 1 reply)

Okay, not my own child but
There was 10 years between me and my little sister and I was left looking after her an awful lot. I honestly didn't ever mean to be cruel but sometimes things were good for...a laugh.


When she was 4 I sat her down and explained what adopted meant, not for any real reason apart from I taught her that her name (lets call her Sarah) meant 'you're adopted and I hate you'. And that her real name was Bert and Bert meant 'beautiful, wonderful daughter'. Great laughs when the 'rents got back.

----------------------------------

Remember those invisible pens you could get (mum got them on QVC)? You drew with the normal pens but could 'erase' them by going over it with the white pen. Anyway, when I was about 12, I was busy drawing all over her face (stared off by doing 'chin people' but got carried away), I drew a house, rainbow, trees, a park (all very small), all over, then started writing, first my name, then hers then, for some reason 'fuck' and 'shit' and 'wanker'.

I hear parents coming home and me panicking and quickly rubbing her whole face over with white pen, which, thankfully worked. All plain faced, lovely.

They are going shopping, does Sarah want to come, yes, yes she does, does different_maybe? No, she doesn't. Okay, off they go to The Hypermarket, which also has a cafe, where they go to have a drink and a cake after shopping. Where the white pen starts to not work anymore, where the colour starts coming through, with all the pictures showing...and the writing.

Mum and Dada and Sarah in the hypermarket cafe with pictures all over her little face, and some smudged writing too with a clear as crystal FUCK right in the centre of her forehead.

----------------------

As I already mentioned, I had to look after her an awful lot and I'd get so bored. So to liven up the day, I'd die. Right in front of her, make dramatic clutches to my throat, gasp and splutter and then fall to the floor with one arm up in the air reaching out to her, then falling limply to the floor when I finally died, normally with a last try at...help me...

She'd sob and scream, calling my name out over and over, diff, she'd cry, diff, wake up, please wake up, I love you, please don't die. Then she'd cry, normally with her head on my tummy, arms desperately trying to wake me.

Then after a while (about 45 minutes or so) I'd shout BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO and scare the shit out of her.

-------------------------------

Mum always complained that Sarah always asked for things when they went shopping and were always on at me to make her stop it, so one day, I sat her down on my knee and explained to her she really shouldn't ask for so many things.....just one thing, then keep on and on about it until she got it and explained the folks would listen to her better if she stamped her feet, shouted a little louder and maybe said things like, why won't you feed me, I'm so hungry.

I got a beating for that one :D

--------------------------------------

Many, many more. I do feel bad and I'd never have done that as an adult with my own kids (except that time I put my daughter in the fridge, just to see if she'd fit...she did, didn't close the door, not all the way up). However in my defence I never caused her pain and at that age i shouldn't have been left alone with her so often for such long periods of time.

I was evil :(
( diffy maybs, Sat 19 Apr 2008, 15:18, 5 replies)

A cautionary tale
.
A story in today's newspaper (not the Sun) reminded me of a childhood incident ...

A new bloke had moved into our street. Average suburban street, council houses, every house had at least two kids. Why they stuck a single bloke there is anyone's guess. My Dad was a great one for gardening, and this bloke seemed to share his enthusiasm. Over the next wee while, they get friendly. He's a regular visitor to the house, polite and chatty, all was normal but for one thing. Me.

I could not stand this bloke - would leave the room when he was there. Wouldn't even say hello to him. Not normal behaviour from a gregarious child - and I was such a child. Parents noted this, but thought little of it.
Time passed, and my aversion never waned. My parents had a works' night out coming up, and this bloke offered to babysit. I heard of the offer and threw the worst tantrum my parents had ever seen. I was terrified they'd go out and leave us with him, but couldn't say why.

Dad asked his younger sister to babysit instead, but at the night out had been telling his secretary's husband about my mental fit. This guy was a cop, and offered to "look up" this new neighbour in the files. Bear in mind this was the 70s, before Data Protection had been invented.

As a result of those enquiries, the police paid a semi-official visit to the neighbour, and suggested strongly that he move on. They had a very thick file on him, and believed he was known to neighbouring forces as well. You've probably worked it all out already, but in case someone's feeling slow today, he was a convicted child molester.

I wasn't told any of that - I was 4 and wouldn't have understood - but I was told when he moved out that if I saw him again I was to tell an adult immediately - any adult. I think the phrase "lynch mob" would have been used if he'd shown his face again.

Today, the papers are always warning single mothers to be wary of this kind of evil c**t. Except they don't always target single mothers, who in my experience are clued up and protective of their children with any new male. There is no doubt in my mind that I was being lined up as his next victim, and had my parents not taken my feelings into consideration, my childhood wouldn't be the golden time I look back on now.

When my daughter, then aged 3, "took against" a workmate MrWitch brought home, I told him in no uncertain terms that the guy wasn't allowed over my doorstep ever again. She may have had no more than a baseless dislike of him, but I was taking no chances. Kids have good instincts (well, we all do, but as we grow up we learn to supress them) and I'd rather ban some harmless bloke from my house than put my girls at risk. To all of you with kids, never ignore their instincts. If they don't trust someone, there has to be a reason. I'm not saying that if kids don't love a new adult, that they're a child molester, but think twice, please.

Sorry for length, and lack of funny. Normal service will be resumed after consumption of some falling-down juice.
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Sat 19 Apr 2008, 15:09, 9 replies)

Child inflicted injuries.
Don't know if anyone has done this yet...

I was reminded of this subject this very morning. As I lay there in the delightful knowledge that I had to get up and go in to work without any guns at all (no, not bitter about the redundancy at all), I hear the patter (thumps) of tiny feet as he gallops at full tilt into 'I'm AWAAAAAAAKE' mode. Now he's a clumsy bugger at the best of times, and as I have a comprehensively knackered ankle sticking conveniently out of the bed I just know that he'll run into it causing me great hurtiness. As he charges into the room, all blonde/cute, filled with energy and remarkably offensive morning breath, I react with the speed of a rattlesnake, and retract the vulnerable swollen trotter.

Now due to the way myself and the Obergruppenfuhrer are lying (in 'pretend to be asleep' mode), I have just jerked myself out of ankle danger, and in some manner have just managed to crush my bollocks against her knee. The resulting spasm simultaneously brings my poor swollen foot into violent contact with her foot, and my nose impacts with her elbow.

I lie there whimpering, clutching at my assorted throbbing bits and wishing I was dead, listening to the sotto voce "what's wrong with Daddy?".

Scene 2.

Tescos. I'm not a great fan of the hyper-mega-corps, but I am a foodie, and as I do the majority of the cooking, I get to do the supply runs. This also means that I get to check out the Own Label Whisky (purely in the name of research, naturally).

Junior is in the built in seat thingy, being Junior. You know, grabbing bottles, insisting on being in charge of the list (as it's a Treasure Map leading to the Secret Chocolate Aisle).

She Who Must Be Ignored wanders off at random, returning with armfuls of eye-wateringly expensive preening products. While waiting for my dearly beloved to return with whatever gunk was absolutely vital this week, Junior starts to get a smidge bored. Daddy was getting incredibly fucking bored, but that's bye the bye.

Picture the scene. He leans as far forwards as he can, staring floorwards, balancing on the horizontal handle bar, and turning a fetching shade of purple. Daddy leans forward after a while to straighten him out, just as he flings his head back. KERRACK! Daddy notices the store rotating gently through 360 degrees, before observing that his nose resembles a plum tomato and his glasses are bent (titanium my arse). Mummy returns just in time to comfort Junior, who has "bumped his head sniff sniff". Git.

Scene 3 (and if you're still reading, well done)

The Park. Junior is full of the joys of spring, and as such needs a good gallop every day or he turns into a hyperactive demonchild. The expeditions includes my visiting mother, my lady pitviper, and baby daughter.

The laydees are in charge of baby, with the majority of the running around, hiding behind trees and climbing things being down to me.

So we've done Hide 'n' Seek Deathmatch, Extreme Climbing Bars, Dangerous Swing Club, Experiments with Centrifugal Force and Falling Over, and quite frankly I'm as tired as a one legged man in an arse-kicking contest. Only one obstacle remains - the wire-with-seat-thing-slung-underneath that I call a zipwire but I'll be corrected by a playground pedant I'm sure.

My wife and mother look on proudly as I scamper up and down, breathing out of my arse as I attempt to launch him into orbit. Finally, I think he's had enough, and off he hops from the seat, staggering slightly, and then headbutts me, full force, directly in the groin.

The spectators swear I left the ground, before wilting against the frame, and gasping in a shrill falsetto "keep out of that puddle", before slumping into a heap as my lungs attempt to suck in some air and I manfully ignore the lump in my throat.

Wife and mother? Loving wife and mother. Full of concern for the Love of Her Life and Mummy's Little Soldier?


Naah.

Backs turned, shoulders shaking as they cried with silent laughter, and left me to stagger after my high-speed offspring like a John Wayne clone, manfully ignoring my flattened spuds, so that they could have a proper hysterical laugh at my expense.

Even my daughter was laughing.

Gits.
(osok Rebel without a clue, Sat 19 Apr 2008, 14:30, 1 reply)

Thank you Mr. Harding...
Too poor to be born I was knitted by the WVS and pushed through the letterbox when my mum wasn't looking...
(paof2 Nude might not be rude, but rude could be nude..., Sat 19 Apr 2008, 13:10, Reply)

About 2 years ago
I booked a babysitter to look after the kids one night while I went out for a friend's birthday. When I got home the front window had been smashed and the cupboard were I keep the biscuits and cakes was emptied on the floor.

I asked the babysitter but all she said was 'I left the room for 5 minutes and this happened'.

Never did find out how the window got smashed though.
(Big Ginge putting the laughter into manslaughter, Sat 19 Apr 2008, 13:10, 2 replies)

Kids! When I was your age,
Pluto was a planet.
(Toucan - http://www.titmonday.com, Sat 19 Apr 2008, 12:49, 3 replies)

Oh dear..
My son was learning the parts of his body at a fairly young age when he saw his mother coming out of the shower (you can guess where this is going), he promptly pointed at her nether regions and screamed with great distress "Oh no - no willy!"

My daughter (at the age of 5) also placed a school recorder (the sort you play - perverts) between her legs and waddled round the house all day pretending to be a boy.
( social hand grenade I was a lurker before you were a lurker, Sat 19 Apr 2008, 12:41, 4 replies)

When I was a teenager...
One of our "family friends" were in hard times, now my mother and step dad being the good sort of person, let their family stay in our spare bedroom for a bit. (Mum, Dad & their 4 year old child)

Now... I'm quite a tolerant person, but this 4 year old...thing was possibly the most annoying thing on earth. He would seek me out like a cruise missile to show me that "he had acorn". At first I found it quite funny, but after the 50th time in one day it quickly became the bain of my existence. Our back garden was full of acords, I had contemplated cleaning the garden daily remove the offending articles however, I'm just too damn lazy.

My Secondary school and his primary school were opposite each other on the same road, and I noticed one day that all the kids were teasing my little friend for pretty much the same reason I hate him, he must have some kind of learning disability or something, but did I take pity on him? Hell no, he deserved, little shit.

So one day, I'm about to set off to walk to school, when his dad offers me a lift, I thought why not. Upon arriving near the school, I asked to be dropped off just out of eyesight, his dad goes "oh are you going to meet you friends?" I Reply "No, I'm too ashamed to be seen walking to school with your son"

I'm a bad person.

Needless to say things were awkward in the house for a bit.
(Bennyroo, Sat 19 Apr 2008, 11:51, Reply)

What's 3 feet tall...
... and stands at the end of a 10 year old's bed?

Gary Glitter's Boots.
(Vic Flange, Sat 19 Apr 2008, 11:27, Reply)

harvey danger
been around the world
and found that only stupid people are breeding
the cretins cloning and feeding
and I don't even own a TV


Its like a mantra to me
( willenium Fist bump for verification, Sat 19 Apr 2008, 11:21, Reply)

CHCB's guide to contraception
Don't want to have children? I've spent the past 15 years trying, for the most part, to avoid getting pregnant. Here is my helpful guide for your choice of child prevention:

The Pill - this little tablet of hormones works mostly by making you emotional, fat, devoid of self-esteem, and destroying your sex drive to such an extent that if your partner so much as looks at you, you burst into tears and flee from the bedroom. Therefore, 100% effective with proper use (see also Abstinence).

Condoms - the contraceptive du choix pour moi, stopping both babies and diseases, and also stopping the mood pretty quickly when you're at boiling point and realise you've got to crawl halfway across the room to try and find one. Also, everyone knows that if you buy any more than a pack of three at any one time you will fall foul of the Curse of the Condoms and will not get laid. This holds true even in a long term relationship, as I can repeatedly testify. Avoid the bumper "family pack" of 12.

The Coil - yeah, right, like anyone's getting near my mimsy with a pointy bit of copper.

The Cap - too much coochie-faffing and it looks even more stupid than a condom, if that's possible.

Contraceptive Injection - a) it's an injection and therefore, given last week's QOTW, it is probably not popular amongst b3tans; b) it's like the Pill but you can't stop taking it because it's been injected into you, so you're fucked, or rather you would be fucked if you could muster the libido. Same goes for those contraceptive implants. In mean, implant? What is this, some kind of dystopia? Why don't they just sterilise us with laser beams?

The Rhythm Method - requires precise timing. Have you seen British men dancing?

Abstinence - I have tried it both enforced and self-imposed. Highly effective but not quite as much fun as inserting flap A into slot B.


*goes back to self-loving*
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Sat 19 Apr 2008, 11:09, 24 replies)

thirteen days ago...
after having to miss my weekly fix of "camp and ham" the previous night (casualty if you cannae guess!)

and after a solid 6 hours systematic-every-corner-nook-crannie-draw-box-root-and-branch search of the house i finally admitted the truth to myself.

i went out to the van and fetched makita cordless drill, 102mm holesaw and the expanding foam gun. ten minutes later i had extracted the 2 remote controls, six clothes pegs, hairbrush and 40p from the inside the bases of the 150watt floorstanding wharfedale loudspeakers in our living room...

where i knew it had been all along but hadn't been willing to face up to the thought of the damage about to happen to my prized stuff and ego and pride and ting.

i had even glued the cutouts back in wiv da foamgun and popped a rolled-up piece of wadding in each bass port to remove the temptation without removing the bass.

however i have not bothered trimming off the small amount of excess foam or tried to disguise the fact.

just so that in 16 or 17 years i can point to the speakers and ask babyblaireau (currently 17 months) if she remembers playing "post the stuff in the round hole?"









when she's got her mates round!









and revenge will be mine!









HA!
( blaireau69 , the Cumbrian Travis Bickle., Sat 19 Apr 2008, 10:22, 4 replies)

Im afraid if I have them theyll turn out like me
my mother nicknamed me Buddha (in appreciation of my rolls of fat)

infact I was so fat as a toddler when my mum told me to jump my feet wouldnt leave the ground (for this I was called mummy's little elephant)

she was so kind...
(R. funny that..., Sat 19 Apr 2008, 10:15, Reply)

my 'colour blind' sister
kept confusing red and green. Give her a pack of fruit pastilles and its fun for her and a worry for mum and dad.

appointments are made, specialists are called.

one day my mum was chatting to the neighbour, and I had to come clean.

mum: "I'm really worried, she keeps saying that leaves are red and the kettle is green."

Neighbor:"oh noes. have you made a doctors appointment?"

mum:"yes shes going into hospital tomorrow"

me:" shes not really colour blind"

mum:"what?"

me" (little brothers name) taught her that red was green and vice versa for a laugh"

He as about 6 years old at this point and was already knew enough about eye tests to know just what would worry my parents the most. The little shit kept up with his 'tutoring' right up to the point when my sister was about to be prodded and poked in the eyes by the doctors.


I don't want kids, they might turn out like him.
( willenium Fist bump for verification, Sat 19 Apr 2008, 9:40, 1 reply)

Ahh Nephews
Specifically my youngest nephew.

There he was, at about 5 or 6 years old in Nursery. They were doing "crafts" (cutting shapes out of paper). The teacher notes young Jake (for that's his name) looking very grumpy, having just thrown down his scissors. He's glaring at the paper.

"What's wrong Jake" the teacher, unwisely, asks.

"Well, I fucked that up" comes the reply
(thatguythere is wondering where he is, Sat 19 Apr 2008, 8:57, Reply)

I Love Kids.
Don't get me wrong, I'm as mushy as any other woman....


I just don't like it when they get me sick.

I work in a pizza shop, and the owners have three lovely kids, who I half babysit while doing my other jobs at work. These lovely kids are so cute, they hug me and come and talk to me all the time....I bet you can see where this is going??

Well now I have the most rotten cold, and my boss thinks I've caught it from her kids. Result being that I haven't been able to work since thursday because I'm not well enough for anything except sleeping and web surfing..


Still love the kids though...they're cute.
(Poppet some assembly required., Sat 19 Apr 2008, 7:36, Reply)

This question is rubbish!!!!!
How in the name of arse is anybody going to come up with a series of crap puns when there's only 1 syllable to play with. Couldn't it have been "young adults" or at the very least "children"? But "kids"!! What on earth are we supposed to do with that!!
(tinypod will never learn. Ever., Sat 19 Apr 2008, 7:35, 4 replies)