You know what, kraken-grabbers, when it comes to parenting I don’t have a single clue about what is going on. Every morning I wake up like an amnesiac, wondering what the fuck that bouncing kid is doing in my house. However, there is one aspect of parenting that confuses me to the point of brain-spaffing derangement and it is this: why parents won’t admit that their kids annoy them.
For once I’m not being obtuse to the point of fist-gnawing delirium. I genuinely don’t know why so many parents are incapable of admitting that there are times when they would like to drop kick their kid into a cement mixer. It’s as if, upon the point of birth, their brains become infested with the notion that normal human emotions are about as socially acceptable as flashing your knackers in Mothercare.
See, overnight your home becomes inhabited with the human equivalent of a Tasmanian devil – and one that insists on trying to bite chunks out of your tit at feeding time – yet, thanks to a strange parental Omerta, it must never be spoken of. What, do these parents think their wombs have been wire tapped by Social Services and that they’ll swoop in like Oz’s flying monkeys if they ever so much scuff being narked?
Thing is, we live in a nation of complainers. The British could moan the soul out of the Pope and all it takes for national rage to engulf us is for Russell Brand to take an ill-timed shit. They write letters of complaint like they’re wading through a European ink lake and bemoan their lives to bus stop strangers. Yet when a tiny human shits all over their entire career, sex life and sanity they say what? Sod all.
So what are these parents scared of? Perhaps they think that the Boden Army will march upon them if they so much as wish their kid would shut the fuck up at bedtime and go to sleep. Or perhaps it’s some sort of parental rule that the midwife failed to inform me about. Then again, perhaps she did but I was screaming so viciously about the head poking from my torn excuse for a foof that I didn’t hear her.
Are parents are so terrified of being shit at, well, parenting, that they never dare mention that their kid is doing their fucking head in? Perhaps, to them, their kid acting like a massive tit is an admittance of personal failure, rather than an admittance of their kid having the human genome. So rather than realising that even the most perfectly raised kids can act like foaming bell-ends, they think that every social infraction is a reflection on how often they bloody bake.
It’s that arse-handling notion of perfection again, that your kids can’t be normal, they can only be perfect. I mean, look at how we treat celebrity spawn. There’s a fountain of fuss every time Suri or Shiloh get papped while throwing tantrums or wiping their snot on the back of Angelina’s head. No one remembers that acting like a complete twat is normal kid behaviour in the first place.
Yet kids aren’t perfect and thank fuck for that because who would want one of those? My favourite memories of Kraken Junior are when she acts like someone poured bleach over her brain by running with her eyes shut, tasting paint and forcing the cat into the microwave. In short, she is being a tiny twat, like every other kid on the planet. If you think otherwise, it’s only yourself you are kidding.
What do you think? Should parents keep schtum about their kids or should they holler about it until said kids see frigging sense? You know where the comment box is, don’t you…