Don’t read this. I’m a bad parent. You’ll hate me. Number 2.

There are some things you should keep to yourself.  The pain you feel inside is too much to bear, but, sometimes, you need to share your heartache so that others can learn.

We all make mistakes as parents, Davina McCall hasn’t done a DVD telling us how to be the perfect parents, not yet, so we all have to muddle along the best we can.  I’m not a bad dad I don’t think, but tonight I have stumbled to new depths of depravity, and I want you to read this, save you might one day feel as bad as I do now.

Several months ago I came across a copy of The Tales of Desperaux on DVD in a shop. I bought it for my 3 year old, thinking she would like it.  We regularly enjoy watching children’s films together. They’re great, on the whole. I’d never seen Tales of Desperaux before; what a pile of shite. I hated it. Awful.  I thought I might grow to like it, but no, the more I watched it, the more it got on my tits. Annoying bastard little rodent. I did my best to dissuade her from watching it again, offering a wide assortment of children’s films, Attenborough documentaries and soft porn as an alternative, but she kept picking it.  So we put it right at the bottom of her DVD pile, away from sight, in the hope she would be 24 before she saw it again.

Alas, she found it, and when I came home from work tonight, she brought it to me, eyes wide, smiling and asked “Can we watch the little mouse daddy?” in her sweetest voice. That voice normally melts my heart and warms my soul, but not tonight.

“It’s broken love”, I said.

“Why is it broken daddy?”

“It’s scratched. When the get scratched, they don’t work ant more”

“Awww *sadface* I’ll put it away”


Oh Jesus, help me 😥


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