Right...
Anyone up for a sweepstake on what time the QOTW will change today?
(Errorist, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 9:19, 45 replies)

When I was a lad...
Back when I was but a little penguin, I used to think that they should use criminals and nasty people from jail in movie scenes where people got shot. It just seemed to make sense.

Upon reflection, might have been a bit harsh.
(PenguinOfDeath is Scottish, and most likely angry, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 9:18, 6 replies)

We took
the sleek smooth lines of a well designed machine. We added the effects of numerous kebabs and too much beer. We sat it awkwardly at a desk to damage the posture. We sprinkled it with hair in places you wouldn't expect and began to remove hair from places you would. We added a crude sense of humour, and a predilection for naughtiness with goats. Then we removed all the outer garments.

This is not just Thursday. This is althegeordie's Naked Thursday
(Bazongaloid, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 9:10, 9 replies)

not just the chavs
That fucking ethiopian government is NO help at all. Cunts.

news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/4720457.stm

"I feel like killing myself when I see my hungry children whom I cannot help," Mr Ayattu says.

His wives have given birth to more than 100 children but 23 have died.

However, he blames Ethiopia's government for not doing more to help him look after all his children.

"I know I have done wrong by marrying many wives and begetting many children but I think I deserve help from the government."

Yes, those damn governments, leaving us in a pickle every fucking time.
(pounana Slept well, and dreamed of large women, on, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 7:06, 2 replies)

A note from the blog
I recently caught up with an old friend via her blog, and she posted a great blog about how perfect her kids are, and it got me thinking about my own.

My kids are perfect too. They do exactly what children are supposed to do! I'll give you my two current favourite examples:

Just a couple of days ago, iSpongMini came running up the corridor shouting "Mum! Mum!" so I popped my head round the door to see what she wanted. She had my breast pump in one hand and was pulling up her jumper with the other when she demanded "Mum! Fix this to my booby!"

Yesterday we were trying pomegranates for the first time, and I noticed iSpongMini trying to push a seed up her nose. I promptly took it off her and told her a very stern "no!", thinking thank goodness I spotted that in time.
After dinner, she was unusually whingy and kept rubbing her nose...yes the seed I had stopped was number 2 and number 1 was firmly lodged up her right nostril. I thanked my lucky stars I had managed to teach her how to blow her nose, so I covered one nostril and told her to blow hard. To iSpongMini's great delight, the little red seed popped out and flew across the room.

I'll be storing these stories and many more I'm sure in preparation for 21st birthday parties, or maybe even wedding days!

giggigoofer.blogspot.com
( DeSpong currently knitting your suggestions - see profile, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 3:18, Reply)

Sexytime Explosion = Population Explosion.
Children, eh? Who'd have them?
Apparently a lot of people. Far too many.
I'm scared of them. We all used to be children (kids reading this, take note) so we know how agonisingly terrible they can be. Not that it's ultimately their fault, though. I'm scared of them because It's the fault of the grown-ups (or teenagers -- OK, let's just say older humans) that sired them and the society that they live in, that makes them trouble. Oh, and the Vatican, too.
Today a man trying to sell me books in the street was remarking on how many kids died every minute in the world. I replied to him - asking if he knew how many kids were born every minute. He mumbled something and changed the subject. I didn't mean to be harsh on the poor (nice) fellow, though. These things just have to be brought up.
I do know how lovely, wonderful and cute, etc. kids can be. But please, people of Planet Earth - Think twice before you turn the other cheek to contraception!

Ah, bollocks. You all know we are heading for a Malthusian holocaust anyway. Forget the condoms, everyone have fun before the world's food supply runs out and we resort to cannibalism!
Mmmm, brains!... But what a horrible thought. Those left alive will probably all have smiling sickness! Then you'll see what we've become.
Happy happy joy joy!

And so, what of true undesirables? Well, you know what the late great Bill Hicks said - PUT 'EM IN THE MOVIES!
(Connor Lingus is running this monkey farm now, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 1:50, 2 replies)

This week...
has been thought provoking, irreverant, serious, mad, amusing, scary, heart-warming, life-affirming - and not forgetting the goats...

Bless you all for your honesty. Makes me glad to be a b3tard, so it does.
















I'm on my 6th glass of wine - cut me some slack...

Hugs and kisses etc.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Thu 24 Apr 2008, 0:04, 39 replies)

A request
Once whilst trawling through the b3ta archives (previous qotws/Image Challenges/Talk Board stuff, I don’t know where) I found a post where that included a link to some Russian diagrams for ‘exercising’ little tots. As I dimly recall it seemed to have consisted of line drawings featuring some boffin in a lab coat of swinging sturdy babies by the arms & legs in all sorts of rather unorthodox ways, I’m not sure how it would benefit the kids actually. Looked like good craic though in a healthy swing the next generation proletarian kind of way. Anyway I tucked mental image in me head, perhaps t’would come in handy someday.

A few years later I’ve since acquired a child (bargain sale in alley behind Toys or Us) and find throwing him round the place is great for stifling most tantrums, is a brilliant recreational activity (esp. to that “Standing in the way of Control” song) & is a wow at birthday/Xmas parties delighting the kids frightening their parents (There’s a limit though, I can only manage to dangle 7{&up} year olds by their ankles) Beats talking bout golf swings & property prices.

Some of this behaviour is down to viewing this image in a legitimising fashion: “But Dear -/swing/weeee/-the Russian childcare medical establishment are-/swing/weeee/-an Authority on this!” never mentioning my source a certain puerile digital arts community.

I sometimes wonder whether if it exists or just a figment of me imagination or worse yet some wicked b3tan’s. Anyone got a clue what I’m goin on about?
(Prohibition69, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 0:00, 1 reply)

Children and destruction
I'm not that great with children. I don't have that in-built sense that some people have that tells them when it's the time to pick the buggers up by their feet and swing them around small living rooms, or when doing the exact same thing will result in crying and me looking like some kind of child swinging mentalist. My brother, bless him, can walk into a room full of children (our extended family has a veritably never ending supply of them) and within minutes be covered in the things, they love him so. Despite me trying to say all the right things and give an outward appearance of being a loveable uncle-y, play-fighting, coin-behind-your-ear type figure, children generally regard me with the kind of suspicion adults have for dieticians and Jehovah's Witnesses.
.
So imagine my delight when the current Mrs Handybread's nephews, now 6 and 4 respectively, seemed to take a liking to me! This was at a time when making a very good impression with her family was the number one priority, and the two boys, who I was secretly dreading meeting, decided that I was cool (I liked star wars too). Oh what fun we had playing light saber battles and being daleks (I make a very good dalek, I am told). All was going splendidly until... the lego incident.

I love lego, have done all my life. I recently found a treasure trove of lego at my parents house, so the first thing I did was up-end it all over a towel on the floor (to make it easy to put back in the box, obviously) and spend five hours making a the most awesomest spaceship base ever. It had a very sophisticated gun turret defence system and everything.. I'm 24.

But ANYWAYS, I was delighted to learn that the kids loved lego too, and had their own (quite impressive) collection. Eager to showcase my (new found) bon homie with kids (and simultaneously impress the possibly in-laws) I agreed to look after them at one of the family's dinner parties, by entertaining them with my lego prowess.

All was going well, it was just me and the two of them, all the guests (20 or so, canapes and the like) are upstairs, we're getting on like a house on fire. We've made a castle out of lego to rival Colditz, I've put lots of effort into it - you know how it is, the kids are more interested in chucking lego figures at each other - so I've spent ages making this castle, it has a defence system (yes, castles as well as spaceship bases need defence systems, trust me), moats, everything.

Then, the youngest one gets this gleam in his eyes, and that's just about the time I remember that the one unifying drive behind all children (okay, maybe just boys) is the love of destruction - the look on his four year old face as he ripped one of the walls (plus crenellations) from my lego castle and used it to beat into individual blocks the entire thing is something I don't think I will ever forget. That is, until I have some children of my own. I have a feeling I may have to get used to it.

The worst thing about that night was the fact that after laying waste to my hours-long creation in a couple of minutes, the bugger realised that this might be trouble for him (especially seeing that he must have noticed the despair in my eyes), so decided to pre-empt the situation by running upstairs and declaring to the (very packed) room above that I had just broken his castle. Cue Mrs Handybread coming downstairs to find me practically in tears, sat cross-legged amongst the wreckage of my destroyed lego fortress, all semblage of uncle-y-ness lost. The kids had long since escaped, but were subsequently hunted down after setting fire to a car and killing next door's cat. As I said, I'm not very good with children...
(fox_handybread, Wed 23 Apr 2008, 23:50, 1 reply)

The stories are multiple
I think I'll start here...I will try and disregard the tales I have already told about my children (my youngest shitting himself and leaving me to give him an upside down bogwash in Tenby can be read in my past questions) and give you a couple about the other horrors which have afflicted me in my years upon this earth by the evil force which is CHILD.

When I was 9 I went on holiday to a caravan park in Tenby (I think this place may be cursed) I was placed in charge of my two cousins, one who was 6 and the other who was five. This was a different time, it was not unreasonable for a child of nine to go to the swing park, 7 caravans away, alone with 2 other children. Anyway I swung, they swung, we all swung, I pushed, they pushed, I pushed one on the swing, the other ran underneath. *SMASH*

The dreaded bleeding head wound. The blood, the blood. Hospital, Stitches, GUILT, Tin-Tin bandage, Guilt, blood, vomit.

I was always seen as a "loose cannon" from that moment on. I fucking HATE Tenby. And KIDS.
( my_cat_has_no_shoes meh meh meh MEH MEH, Wed 23 Apr 2008, 22:07, Reply)

the other day
my sister told us all that she is having another baby

and told us the due date is december the 25th

and well me being me decided it would be a fun idea to convince my 2 nieces and she is going to give birth to the baby jesus, my god it was fun when they told everyone in school.

i can now confirm that she isnt giving birth to jesus just a normal regular sprog bit like muhammad
(dobbsey, Wed 23 Apr 2008, 21:21, Reply)

A job!
I generally have little time for fuck-trophies. Mrs. Lustfish and I aren't really the parenting types. However, should we ever have a little crotch-fruit of our own, I would be proud to be the kind of parent that my friend Rick is.

He has a daughter, and I visited when she was about six. As I arrived, this cute-as-a-button little girl came running over, and asked "Uncle Lustfish, would you like a gin and tonic?". Why, yes, I would, as it happened.

So off she bounced and made me a damn fine G&T. I thanked her for this, and complimented Rick on his fine parenting skills. He said, "that's nothing - ask her what she's getting for her sixteenth birthday!".

Now, Rick is something of a pervert, so I did ask - but with some trepidation. Nothing could have prepared me for her answer, though.

"A job! So I can pay Daddy back!".
(lustfish, Wed 23 Apr 2008, 19:25, 7 replies)

If you don't shut up...
Many years ago, when I was about seven, my little brother was four and little sis was one. Back in those days, it was completely normal for kids to be left in the car while Mum went off to do the shopping. Since I was so grown-up, we even had the keys so we could have the radio.

My little brother climbed out onto the roof of the car, causing our Mum to come out of the shop, twat him one and poke him back through the window. She then told me to "look after your little brother".

Because of the twatting, and the interruption of his climbiness, said little brother was bawling his head off. He soon realised that this was annoying me, and he also set little sister off. I got steadily angrier and angrier, and he got noisier and noisier to match.

He was thoroughly enjoying it now, bawling was forgotten - he was just screaming to piss me off. I threatened him; I cajoled him; I hit him; I pinched him - all to no avail. Eventually, I told him that if he didn't shut up, I would set fire to him.

Silence.

"How?" asked he. "With the car cigarette lighter", quoth I. Laughter, disbelief, then more noise, followed by screaming. A lot of screaming. In retrospect, if his silence was my desire, pressing the glowing lighter into his thigh probably wasn't the best strategy. He's 35 now and still has the scar.

Well, I did warn him.
(lustfish, Wed 23 Apr 2008, 19:18, 1 reply)

Theif
I was sitting on the floor in my friend's house drinking squash.

Her baby is nearly 1 and is at that really cute stage where she can walk a bit but still topples over a lot, and make cute noises but not actually talk.

So I was on the floor, minding my own business when cute baby comes over, arms out like she wants a cuddle. I go all soppy at this sight and allow her to climb onto my lap.

Where she proceeds to grab my cup and drink my yummy beverage...

Note to self: Do not trust baby cuteness again, it is just a ploy to steal my drink...
( Mellicious is made of candy, Wed 23 Apr 2008, 19:02, 1 reply)

Little shits
Kroney's story below reminds me of a time about 7 or 8 years ago. We were playing football in Raploch (a rather rough estate in Stirling), there were a bunch of mutants aged between about 5-12 standing behind the goal I was in shouting the usual abuse.
Anyhoo, sometime during the second half, one of the little shits comes onto the pitch about 20 yards away from me, pulls down his trousers and proceeds to curl out a turd just by the corner flag. Disbelief soon gave way to hilarity as one of the home team subs yelled,

"Haw, fuck off ya wee bastard", and booted a ball at the youngster, it would have made my day if it had hit him, but unfortunately it narrowly flew by his head.


As for length, probably about 4 or 5 inches before someone pushed it off the pitch with a stick.
( Stu71 ....bad money dies, I love the scene, Wed 23 Apr 2008, 18:18, 5 replies)

Reminds me of
The night I ran down a street in the next village across from us, chasing a couple of youths with an axe. They had petrolbombed my brothers car, so I was a bit irate.

In fact, it was a good job they ran into the policeman that was coming to see what the commotion was.
(Code of Post lives at the moment in time that is..., Wed 23 Apr 2008, 17:57, Reply)

When I was a child of about 6
I was out playing on my bike with the other kids on the street when I suddenly felt the urge to poo. I was having so much fun that I really didn't want to go indoors to the bathroom. Luckily, the carpark we were playing in was backed onto by the gardens of the parallel street.

So I opened one of the gates, went into some poor bastard's shed and did a big poo behind the lawnmower.
( Kroney, Wed 23 Apr 2008, 17:49, Reply)

Tenuous link to actual QOTW....
My first memory is of my sister dropping a wardrobe on me. I was about 4 so she would of been nearly 7.
We had made an 'assault course' in her bedroom, basically a karate belt tied between two wardobes facing each other. The idea was to grab the rope whilst at one wardrobe, and shimmy along with our hands before reaching the other end. To our young minds this was dazzinlgy attractive peril, with no real danger element. Or so we thought. Big sis jumps to grab the belt, with me standing bang in the middle of the journey. As soon as she grabs the rope and starts sagging to the ground I saw her face change immediatly from one of childish glee, to one of abject terror. Thinking one of our parents has walked in I turned to see the wardrobe starting to fall in my direction, then continue to fall and *clonk* me square in the face, then one sidedly wrestle me to the ground, and trap me.
My sister wasn't strong enough to remove the wardobe by herself, and was too scared to go find my dad to help remove it from me.
I was there for half an hour before dad realised that it was *too* quiet.

We got a bollocking.

The next day my sister threw me down the stairs after stuffing me into a duvet cover. Bitch.
(Formaly Over say's hello, Wed 23 Apr 2008, 17:40, Reply)

More on baby names
I found out a while ago that if I'd been born a boy, I'd have been named "Peregrine".

Thank fuck I wasn't.



Anyway, after I was born, my father was lazy about getting his arse to the registry office to declare my birth. He kept putting it off, until one day my mother told him that if he didn't do it right this minute, she'd go herself and call me Arthur. Great, thanks mum.

I ended up saddled with a less-than-great name anyway, in the end. I have one of those names that, whilst technically it can be used for both sexes, 99.9% of the time is used only for boys. My mother, however, really liked it as a girl's name; this means that my entire childhood was spent making friends (or enemies) by introducing myself with the words: "Hi, my name is ******, yes it is normally a boy's name, yes I am a girl, but technically it can be used for both boys and girls, and yes my parents are weird". In one long garbled sentence. I finally got out of it by moving to London for uni and adopting a nickname that is derived from my real name, but which is pleasingly feminine.

Grrr parents.
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Wed 23 Apr 2008, 17:14, 28 replies)

overheard in school today...
A: Shut up or I'll spitroast you!
*entire class collapses in laughter*
A: why are you laughing?

*someone explains to him what spitroasting is*

A: So how does she rotate then?

*silence*
(papa bouba slap your face, Wed 23 Apr 2008, 17:03, 2 replies)

On still being a kid
As I've posted before, last year I had a blood clot in my leg and lungs. Initially I took the day off work because I thought I'd just pulled a muscle in my leg and decided to see the Doc about it. The Doc then referred me on to the hospital. I spent around 6 hours on my own in the hospital being prodded, poked, x-rayed and scanned.

I couldn't get hold of Mrs Smurf (no mobile phones allowed) and when they allowed me my one call (Ipswich hospital have the same phone policy as the police apparently) her phone was engaged so I had to leave a message saying the Docs had found a clot.

I found the whole experience fascinating and interesting. I saw my own heart and lungs on a monitor, had my first ECG and chatted with the nurses and Docs (including one nurse who asked me if I was scared. I wasn't until she asked!). I got the Doc to explain how to decipher an ECG, what veins were effected, what could cause it etc etc.

My Mum and Dad turned up at the hospital about four in the afternoon, as soon as they'd got the message from Mrs Smurf.

As soon as I saw them walk in to the ward I burst in to tears (I think to the surprise of the nurses as I'm a 6 foot skinhead and was wearing an Iron Maiden t-shirt) and got a cuddle from my mum. Which I think just goes to show that most of us still have that child inside of them. Makes my lips tremble now remembering that moment.

*Edit* I promise this is my last post on this QOW!
(Big Smurf Brush me daddy-O, Wed 23 Apr 2008, 16:50, 8 replies)

Watersports
I was in my first year of school when my brother was born. Keen to discourage me from any potential infanticide, my mother decided that I should feel as involved with the new baby as possible and thus not feel left out. One way in which she decided to achieve this was by offering to take the new baby into my school to show all the kids. The idea behind this was, she'd demonstrate how you look after a baby n stuff, I'd be her lovely assistant for all this, and then all the other kids would think I was the coolest girl ever for having such a gorgeous little brother and I'd decide I liked the squealing, red-faced, ugly little bugger after all.

I don't think I need to tell you that it didn't work out quite like that.

One of the things she had decided to demonstrate was how to give a baby a bath. We were the only Jewish family at the school, so as soon as she took his nappy off, all of the boys in the room were squealing and pointing and screaming, "Look at his willy!" It got worse though. Mum asked me to fetch her a flannel from several metres away, and as I walked over to get it, a spectacular, graceful arc of urine soared across the room and scored a direct hit. So I was standing in the middle of the classroom, dripping with urine, with everybody laughing at me. I swear to God, the evil little bastard did it deliberately.

Obviously the school kept a couple of outfits in case of "accidents" and so I was quickly dispatched to go and get changed. But the only clothing proffered to me was a really, really ugly dress with green flowers on it. I did NOT want to wear an ugly dress, and so I refused to change into it. Instead I insisted on spending the rest of the afternoon jumping on the trampoline in my piss-soaked dungarees whilst various adults tried to cajole my piss-sodden self into changing into the dress. To my four-year-old mind, a crime against fashion was so much worse than stinking of piss.

To the best of my knowledge, my brother has not peed on anyone since.
(grandmasterfluffles Come to my Armageddon party on, Wed 23 Apr 2008, 16:32, 10 replies)

I was once a Dad (almost)
If anyone has ever thought a child should be born then perhaps it was this one.
Here comes perhaps a long story. But I'll try and make it as interesting as possible.

I never wanted kids. What a load of effort they are! They hold you back from doing things you want to do and why would I want to bring a child up in this hostile overpopulated world anyway?

I had started seeing this girl, I'd known her a while but she kinda dissapeared then came back onto the scene. We started seeing more and more of each other. We weren't together yet and hadnt actually done anything with each other. One day she confided in me that she was pregnant with her ex's baby. She was only 17 at the time and hadn't even told her own family. I told her it was entirely up to her as to what she wanted to do. The thing is, she was well into the pregnancy. Believe it or not nearly 5 months before she knew she was pregnant. Yes its rare, it does happen. She literally went to the doctors complaining of weight gain and irregular and extremely light periods! But yes she was pregnant.
I of course took a step back from this developing relationship as a result. At only 17 she wasnt wanting the child at all and didnt feel she could give a child what it would need. She was extremely worried about family support, and I guess what every young mother would worry about.

Anyway I don't want to drag too much on this part but basically she was too late for an abortion. One day too late actually so she had to have the baby.

I kept on seeing her, and it was obvious that her ex wanted nothing to do with it, and even denied the fact it was his accusing her of sleeping around. The usual teenage response for finding out that youre a daddy. Thing is I was a bit older (low 20s) so was somewhat more objectivly minded.

One day we had gone to town together with some of her friends when a heavilly pregnant Kelly (for thats what we will call her) suddenly fell rather ill. I took her home and she spewed up in my nice shiny new car on the way back. I wasnt too bothered though. I was mainly worried for her. They ended up phoning the hospital and was told to bring her in as she was just getting iller and iller as the evening progressed. She was starting to get contractions. I asked her if she wanted me to come with her. And she said yes. Normally Kelly was one of these girls to say "Its up to you I dont mind" but i really needed a firm answer here. I mean we werent exactly a full on couple at this point. But the fact she said yes was fine.

We went to the hospital with her mum, and they got her straight into the maternity ward. It was rather serious to say the least. They ended up calling out the chief consultant. There were problems, Kelly had got an infection and her temperature was sky high and the heart rate of the baby was also rather high. They wanted to get mum better first. I had the great job of holding the sensor thing onto her stomach to keep a constant measure of heart rate. They pumped her through of anti-biotics. And there were times when we had to all leave to doctors to it, and then were alowed back in. There was a lot they wasnt telling us, as we heard them talking and they werent sounding too happy thats for sure.
I had Kellys mum crying on me and saying thank goodness you are here. I wouldnt have coped if you werent. This was quite amusing considering just 24 hours before she was giving me the ole "Dont you dare hurt her" speach!

They induced her to give birth and I prepared myself to witness a live birth. But then they found some other problems, and rushed her up for an emergency cezarian. Obviously her mum went with her leaving me sat in a now empty ward waiting.

Half an hour later I heard the sound of a baby crying echoing through the corridor. By this point it was 3am and I was high on caffeine. A nurse said, he's here do you want to come and see him. So I did, and there was a very tiny alien thing laid all wrapped up in a cot. I cut the cord. Well obviously it was already cut but it needed cutting shorter. Mum was being stitched up in the operating theater. It was quite a feeling seeing this tiny red thing laid there squirming around. I remember saying to him "Welcome to Earth mate!"

They put the baby in the Special Care Unit as he wasnt well either. Another a hour later and a very dozed and completely knackered looking Kelly was wheeled down and they gave the baby back to her. It was all very nice and her mum was in tears of happiness after being so worried that the baby and even her could have been lost. It was touch and go for a moment there. Loads of photos taken (which are now very embarassing as Kelly really did look rough after going through all that lot!)

The next day Kelly and Baby were perfectly fine. I never found out the full details of this infection. I think it was a water infection or something, but apparantly it was a little touch and go at one point.

It makes you really realise what is important in life. Life I guess. I work in IT and people get all hyped up about a computer not working. Like its the end of the world. Yet these people there at the hospital were literallly dealing with a matter of life and death. Stuff that will change peoples lives forever. It really puts into perspective some peoples jobs. If you see people getting all stressed out because a tax report isn't ready on time. Think to those doctors and nurses working in hospitals all the time dealing with real life important things. Despite our story being a happy ending, sadly many are not. Those nurses and doctors were nothing short of remarkable. The professionalism was commendable. I felt I couldn't thank them enough. It wasn't just us they were dealing with that night, and before we had even left and there were more births coming in. Their actions changed our lives forever, yet I bet they dont even remember us now. They did so much for us, and it didnt cost anything. Yay for the NHS is what I say on that one. Very well done there.

As time went on, I began to realise that this baby wasnt gonig to be a burden. Infact it brought me and Kelly very close together, to the point we got a house together and I practically became babies daddy. I was there when he crawled for the first time, there when he walked for the first time. Even my own family were begining to see him as part of the family. I helped him mutter his first words. It was amazing seeing this thing that was laid on the hospital bed grow into a happy bouncing toddler.

I'd like to say we lived happily ever after. But sadly that didnt happen. 18 months later, Kelly cheated on me and I ended up moving to Spain. Thats another very very long story.
I'd love to have my own kids some day.
They give direction in life, a sense of achievement seeing them learning new things, seeing them happy. I feel I have a lot to teach and I'd love to teach my child and experience him developing his own skills and personality. They are a joy to have around.
(Miggyman, Wed 23 Apr 2008, 16:14, 5 replies)

Sex makes children. Masturbation does not.
It's 4pm.
Go forth and don't multiply!
( Cawl, Wed 23 Apr 2008, 16:00, 63 replies)

Special kids
After a long debate on Big Smurf's IVF post, a few below, I portrayed many negative aspects in the (amiable) argument. So here's to redressing the balance....

As I've mentioned, my line of work is with special needs children. My last job has been the most enjoyable to date - working with kids on the autistic spectrum. It's bloody challenging and rewarding, in equal measures.

I've accumulated too many stories to post here, but one in particular sticks in my mind.

X is at the severe end of the autistic scale - very little spoken language, all sorts of sensory issues, cannot cope with social interaction at all, the list is huge. X is very isolated in his own world. This all sounds sad, to say the least.
He also has a devilish sense of humour, which when accessed by neurotypicals is a delight.
And, he is a whizz on computers. He seems to take in the data at an inhuman speed - a bit like watching those green flashy things in The Matrix.

At the age of 5, he went on t'interweb and logged on to the Argos catalogue wedding present page. Ordered himself every Thomas The Tank Engine product from the website.

Best of all, at the age of 7 (the last US general election) he managed to vote for Bush... Christ only knows how he worked out the different codes to do this?! I forget now which state he "registered himself" in, but his parents received an email from Dubya's people the following morning, thanking them for their support :o)
( Tourette's ( . )( . ) has a monkey hair in her fried egg, Wed 23 Apr 2008, 15:33, 4 replies)

I went to school

With a boy called Willy Cramp and another called Cosmo Melon, this rather suited him as he was a complete space cadet!
( Naked Ape call me Caitlyn, Wed 23 Apr 2008, 15:19, Reply)

The parents vs. the childless
What we really, really want to know about the joyous miracle of creating a new life is...

...from then on, is sex like throwing a sausage into a bucket?
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Wed 23 Apr 2008, 15:11, 83 replies)

I am eating M&M's
There are no big kids to take them away from me anymore.

They are good and I ate a blue one.
(Lythium deals in lead, my friend., Wed 23 Apr 2008, 15:11, Reply)

Scalextric
My older brother had a fab Scalextric kit. He had loads of track, and he and Dad would set it up in the living room, and loop it out the door and down the hall a bit.

As a wee nipper, I wasn't allowed to touch the precious thing, until one magic day. My brother finally agreed that I could have "a wee shot". He promised that if I helped him set it up, I could have a go.

Well, neither of us could be trusted to do anything this complex without starting world war 3, and sure enough, we fell out.

I was still absolutely desparate to have a go, and was trying to worm my way back into his good books. The evil sod couldn't resist revenge, though.

I'm not sure of the technicalities, but I do know that the transformer was plugged in. I also know I was holding the wires. I vividly remember the nasty wee shock I got, which caused me to drop the wires pretty damn quick. I'm not sure if my reaction was the first time I belted my brother in the nads, but it was far from the last time.

Actually, I don't think I ever got a shot of that bloody Scalextric set. Must remind him of this incident - I drag up sibling cruelty every now and again to wind him up!
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Wed 23 Apr 2008, 14:58, 2 replies)

All this talk of babies and children.....
It's making me feel broody.












Sorry, I meant moody.
( girlinthehole, Wed 23 Apr 2008, 14:33, 12 replies)