I've just been accused of stealing - by my daughter. Phoned up at work, abused and threatened, and insulted for good measure.
Short of travel fares this morning, and late for work as usual, I dipped into her piggy bank. Well, piggy bank is too strict a term. It's a two litre plastic milk bottle made to look like a pig...I am from the Blue Peter generation, so am quite handy at adapting house hold waste.
Five minutes ago, I got a phone call. "Someone wishes to speak to you" my wife said. I thought that my dear child might actually be wanting to say something lovely and endearing...it has happened in the dim and distant past.
"I'm very cross with you"....the 'you' being stressed with such violence that I almost dropped the reciever.
" You stole my money...you stole my money".
I tried to explain my predicament, but was met with more abuse. "I'm going to smack you when you come home" she bellowed....oh bloody hell. Who do you think put the money in there in the first place? (By the way, this is not something she's ever heard at home. I prefer psychological punishment...or indefinitely deferred retribution. Smacking is something fag smoking chav parents do to their kids in supermarkets, not enlightened artistic fag smoking types like me).
Anyway, somewhere along the line, Ava has worked out that threatening violence is a useful tool. At this point, the phone was taken from her .I heard wife reasoning with her, that smacking me was not a nice thing to do.
The phone was passed back to small child...possibly for an apology?? Not a chance
" I'm going to smack you....and you've got yellow teeth".
To think I was worried about which primary school she should go to. Sod that, she's going straight into debt collection and demanding money with menaces.
On a professional note, I went to the filming of Later With Jools Holland. It was alright I suppose. If you like that sort of thing...which I don't much. Could be jealousy - well ok, it is jealousy. Who cares? jealousy is good. Better than being accused of having yellow choppers by a three year old.
I am considering writing a poem - an epic, Wasteland -kind of thing. Might even set it to music. Don't hold your breath though - I'm not exactly bursting with creativity at present.
Anyway, must dash - candy to be stolen from babies, toys to be seized. Piggy bank to the slaughter. Daddy is going to the boozer, and paying in pennies, twopences and fivepences - along with all the other thieving bastard fathers. Sod being a 'new' dad. I'm an 'Old Man' and I like it.