My Dad’s Poor Parenting

When my younger brother was three, my father had to look after him for the day. The plan was that he, after asking his boss, would take him into work for the day. It was office work, and he was friendly with his boss, so my mum assumed it was no big deal.

My father, however, didn’t want a toddler distracting him all day, so he left him in the car with the radio on and a carton of apple juice. (This is Britain, so it wouldn’t overheat, but either way he was being an arse.) At the end of the day he returned back to his car to drive home, expecting a sleeping toddler who wouldn’t tell his mother a thing.

Instead, upon his return, he found his son jumping up and down on the front seats to the radio on full blast, naked and laughing, slipping around and covered in shit. He had soiled himself, removed his nappy his faecal matter EVERYWHERE. Shit was smeared all over the driver’s seat, the windscreen, the steering wheel, the satnav, the driver’s window, and the ceiling. Our dad didn’t even know that toddlers could even produce this vast amount of turd. The only car seat that was completely untouched was his own.