Kids
Either you love 'em or you hate 'em. Or in the case of Fred West - both. Tell us your ankle-biter stories.
( , Thu 17 Apr 2008, 15:10)
Either you love 'em or you hate 'em. Or in the case of Fred West - both. Tell us your ankle-biter stories.
( , Thu 17 Apr 2008, 15:10)
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Sisters Part 2
I have three sisters, all younger, who (as mentioned in a previous post) banded together like a weird combination of a tag-team wrestling group and a localised civil war.
Picture the scene: Rural Warwickshire, 1994. We'd just moved into a newly built house in a village several miles from Warwick. My youngest sister was a precocious 3 year old who developed the habit of running around wrapped in an American flag that my dad had been given when he worked in the States. Cheery and mischevious she was the baby of the family.
My room was plastered and painted with a colour I believe was called light apple green. Tasteful, subdued, and the perfect vantage point for my then 12 year old self to spy on the 16 year old next door neighbour sunbathing in the garden next door.
One day I meandered up to my room after school, put my blazer in the cupboard, closed the door, and discovered a drawing of a man, a house, and a dog on the wall at about knee height.
This could only be my youngest sister. We'd only lived in the house for 2 months, and my dad, notorious for a reluctance to spend money on anything, would go insane that the wall had been defaced (as an aside this is a man who steadfastly refuses to have a leak in his current houses cellar fixed, even though its next to the fusebox and is slowly undermining the house. Apparently it'll cost too much and they'll move out 'before it becomes an issue').
Anyway, being the loving brother that I am, I tell my dad and he drags my 3 year old sister up to my room and starts to interogate her.
"Was it you that drew on the wall?"
"No, it was Zapiola"
"Child No. 3, I know it wasn't Zapiola because its at your eye level"
Conversation continued like this for several minutes with my dad gettng increasingly shouty, and my sister getting increasingly teary.
Eventually she pipes up with: "I know who did it"
"Who then?" quoth the Old Man
"A burglar did it"
My dad collapsed into laughter, and later bought her an icecream.
( , Tue 22 Apr 2008, 0:33, 1 reply)
I have three sisters, all younger, who (as mentioned in a previous post) banded together like a weird combination of a tag-team wrestling group and a localised civil war.
Picture the scene: Rural Warwickshire, 1994. We'd just moved into a newly built house in a village several miles from Warwick. My youngest sister was a precocious 3 year old who developed the habit of running around wrapped in an American flag that my dad had been given when he worked in the States. Cheery and mischevious she was the baby of the family.
My room was plastered and painted with a colour I believe was called light apple green. Tasteful, subdued, and the perfect vantage point for my then 12 year old self to spy on the 16 year old next door neighbour sunbathing in the garden next door.
One day I meandered up to my room after school, put my blazer in the cupboard, closed the door, and discovered a drawing of a man, a house, and a dog on the wall at about knee height.
This could only be my youngest sister. We'd only lived in the house for 2 months, and my dad, notorious for a reluctance to spend money on anything, would go insane that the wall had been defaced (as an aside this is a man who steadfastly refuses to have a leak in his current houses cellar fixed, even though its next to the fusebox and is slowly undermining the house. Apparently it'll cost too much and they'll move out 'before it becomes an issue').
Anyway, being the loving brother that I am, I tell my dad and he drags my 3 year old sister up to my room and starts to interogate her.
"Was it you that drew on the wall?"
"No, it was Zapiola"
"Child No. 3, I know it wasn't Zapiola because its at your eye level"
Conversation continued like this for several minutes with my dad gettng increasingly shouty, and my sister getting increasingly teary.
Eventually she pipes up with: "I know who did it"
"Who then?" quoth the Old Man
"A burglar did it"
My dad collapsed into laughter, and later bought her an icecream.
( , Tue 22 Apr 2008, 0:33, 1 reply)
The bit about
the vantage point to spy on the 16 year old neighbour rung a bell with me...
Used to do that myself when I was 14 or so!
( , Tue 22 Apr 2008, 9:07, closed)
the vantage point to spy on the 16 year old neighbour rung a bell with me...
Used to do that myself when I was 14 or so!
( , Tue 22 Apr 2008, 9:07, closed)
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