Friday, August 26, 2011
All fathers have this disease. This disease of opposing every full stop, semi colon, comma, exclamation mark and sentence that pours out of their daughter's mouths. Around the world every little girl is born dreaming of her daddy as daddy the hero, daddy the best, daddy the cutest and daddy the easier half of the parents to bend. But as that little girl grows up so does her daddy and sadly they grow apart. Daddy dearest turns into this argumentative monster who is just waiting to tear you apart with his sharp tongue.
Little Girl : "Daddy, I think the sky is blue"
Daddy : "Absolutely not. It's purple"
Little Girl : "Daddy, do I look round today?"
Daddy : "I think so, yes. Lose some weight"
I'm that little girl and that's my daddy. We fight, till we turn blue in the face, every minute of every hour of every damn day. I'm tired. I'm done fighting. I'm officially hanging up my boots. This morning I saw a little girl sitting behind her father on a bike and she had her hand placed firmly on her father's mouth. I think it's safe to say that every little girl around the world is born to hen-peck her father. And what does this equate to? A hand pecked husband and terrified children.
I blame fathers for women turning into nags and hen-peckers. Our old man gets on our nutcase and argues with us for random reasons which in turn builds an impression in our minds that all men are mad. Sorry future hubby and children. I live with mad dad.