Posts tagged ‘father’

The wheels on the bus…

The other day in the bus:

I had just picked up my son from kindergarten, the bus had stopped at a red light and bus stop, the light turned green, we moved on, however, one car in the lane next to us honked at the driver in front of them to get moving, my son turns over in the direction of the honking car and yells for the entire bus to hear: “Stop with Tutu, or I’ll set you on fire!”

What is the correct parental response to this?

A high five?

Asking him where he picked THAT up?

Turning on Rammstein – Benzin?

I don’t know whether to be a proud dad, or to be worried. I don’t even know how to feel about this. There’s a delighted joy, there’s pride, but also worry and a bit of shame. (The people on the bus heard, they laughed, but surely also judged.)

FYI, I went with laughter, imagining a high five, and then asking him where he picked it up. He claimed he taught it to himself, that he’ll take a candle and burn the car…

Take care, A.

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Keeping the gate

 … closed. Real tight!

(An experimental father blog post)

During my vacation I got to spend a lot of time with my son. 
Alone, out in the wild, where people are. 
Where mothers roam.

Running around in an urban area one day, a suburban the next, rural one on day three, zoo, aquarium, playgrounds. 
Everywhere you go as a dad with your child, you meet them. 
The Mothers. 
Especially the “MOTHERS”(tm). 
And everywhere you meet them, they give you a smile.

Nice. Isn’t it?

No.
It isn’t. 
It is no smile of joy, of friendliness, of kindness. 
No. 
This the contemptuous, belittling smile of a person about to drown a puppy.
If women were treated this way in hardware-stores, feminists would (rightly) tear them to the ground. 
Brick by brick.

With that one “smiling” glance they let you feel how superior they feel over you, how they see you as an intruder into their realm, their domain, their existence. How they despise your very presence there, and think, or feel, that everything you do is wrong, that you are wrong for even attempting to spend time with your child alone.

These women define themselves, and validate their entire existence, through the fact they squeezed a human being out their vaginal opening. 
There is no place for you, for a father, a man, in that world, the realm of the mothers.

Maternal gate keeping.

It’s a thing: 
》A father maybe plays with the kids under maternal supervision, is permitted to accompany the “MOTHER”(tm) and the kids to the playground. But, and this is the most important thing, a true mother never, ever, lets her children leave the house with the father unsupervised. 
A father does not feel or think with/for his children like a mother, thus can’t take care of the child(ren) like the mother.《
BULLSHIT!

All that is implied in that one smile they give you.

Dads! Rejoice. 
For these women lead the most pitiful life imaginable. Once the kids are old enough to leave the nest, once the menopause has begun to haunt their bodies, ravaging their self-validation with the undeniable fact that birthing is forever off the table, they have but a shallow empty ghost of a reason to live. Whilst we have memories of time spent with our children, the husbands (or lifepartners) of these despicable women will have memories of them spending time with children under maternal supervision that was as strict like a prison visit. 
Relax fellow dads. 
Smile back, and put all the pity you feel for these old hags who have lost the reason to live due to aging, in that smile. 
Give them the same pity, the same contempt and dispise they give you. Disrupt their self image, for they expect a shocked expression, a shy or hurt glance, shame in your eyes. If you hand them back what they dish out, they are disrupted.
Maybe, just maybe, you can draw a “MOTHER”(tm) back to the realm pf normal people, and make her a normal mother.

Take care,
A.