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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Pissing Picasso
Following a nasty break-up with Sweary Junior's dad, Belly and I returned to Blighty to lick my wounds, dust myself down and all that clichéd shit. Having left my entire life & belongings in Greece, I was left penniless, so greatfully accepted my folks' offer of a roof over my head (and belly). And applied for a council flat.
Such a life was not what I'd envisaged at all. But, hey - it's like a sewer innit? What you get out of it depends on what you put into it - just look at JK Rowling.
Sweary Junior was a year old when we moved into our council flat. Finally we were both free of my parents' restrictions and could live as we pleased. No china ornaments in peril, no nasty pointy-cornered hurty coffee table - the whole place was child-friendly and I didn't give a shit if he drew on the walls with crayon.
My son has always had an artistic streak, which I encourage in any shape or form. Came the time he was ready to progress from potty training to using the Big Boys' Loo. Y'know how kids like to draw pictures / write their names with sparklers? Well, Sweary Junior liked to draw pictures with his wee. (In the toilet, I hasten to add - I'm not that laid back!)
What fun I had, guessing what he'd drawn... S for Sweary, his teddy bear, a Lotus Esprit, JCB digger etc. But one day he had me totally flummoxed. I had to give in and ask what it was. He looked up at me as if I was mentally defficient (which I am). "It's a council flat, of course!"
( , Tue 22 Apr 2008, 10:34, 2 replies)
Following a nasty break-up with Sweary Junior's dad, Belly and I returned to Blighty to lick my wounds, dust myself down and all that clichéd shit. Having left my entire life & belongings in Greece, I was left penniless, so greatfully accepted my folks' offer of a roof over my head (and belly). And applied for a council flat.
Such a life was not what I'd envisaged at all. But, hey - it's like a sewer innit? What you get out of it depends on what you put into it - just look at JK Rowling.
Sweary Junior was a year old when we moved into our council flat. Finally we were both free of my parents' restrictions and could live as we pleased. No china ornaments in peril, no nasty pointy-cornered hurty coffee table - the whole place was child-friendly and I didn't give a shit if he drew on the walls with crayon.
My son has always had an artistic streak, which I encourage in any shape or form. Came the time he was ready to progress from potty training to using the Big Boys' Loo. Y'know how kids like to draw pictures / write their names with sparklers? Well, Sweary Junior liked to draw pictures with his wee. (In the toilet, I hasten to add - I'm not that laid back!)
What fun I had, guessing what he'd drawn... S for Sweary, his teddy bear, a Lotus Esprit, JCB digger etc. But one day he had me totally flummoxed. I had to give in and ask what it was. He looked up at me as if I was mentally defficient (which I am). "It's a council flat, of course!"
( , Tue 22 Apr 2008, 10:34, 2 replies)
Could have been worse
His preferred medium could have been his own poo. Which wouldn't be pleasant.
But then again, working with autistic children has probably broken that last barrier anyway. Eeeuuugh...
And it's no longer a council flat :-D
( , Tue 22 Apr 2008, 11:10, closed)
His preferred medium could have been his own poo. Which wouldn't be pleasant.
But then again, working with autistic children has probably broken that last barrier anyway. Eeeuuugh...
And it's no longer a council flat :-D
( , Tue 22 Apr 2008, 11:10, closed)
There are worse places...
My mate came up to his son's bedroom to find him signing his name with piss on the bedroom carpet. As he said, good thing they called him Adam* rather than Nehemiah or Aurelius.
*name changed cos he posts on here*
( , Tue 22 Apr 2008, 17:31, closed)
My mate came up to his son's bedroom to find him signing his name with piss on the bedroom carpet. As he said, good thing they called him Adam* rather than Nehemiah or Aurelius.
*name changed cos he posts on here*
( , Tue 22 Apr 2008, 17:31, closed)
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