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Originally Posted by PornoDoggy
My kids had a pretty good handle on when Dad was playing and when he wasn't, and they knew that the rules for when Dad was playing were different. They gave, even as little kids, as good as they got.
Example when they were 12, 8, 7: two cute little blonde girls explaining that the reason that the brunette "baby" sister didn't come back from the school bus with them was that she was in police custody for beating up a boy on the bus. Little sister shows up four minutes after the older two, in the custody of a police officer all right, ligths going. Of course, the officer was a friend of mine and her mothers who had promised her a ride in her car ...
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Your kids would have gotten along *great* with my kids.
Sadly, one of my biggest problems growing up was not getting my Dad's sense of humor. He popped around the corner wearing a gas mask once and I screamed and burst into tears. His reaction to that was fury...the implication that he'd do anything to hurt me made him lose it. However, I was too young - and unfortunately, too sensitive - to grasp that. So, I became doubly frightened during that incident.
When I got my finger stuck in a wiffle ball he examined it and said "we'll have to cut it off." He meant the wiffle ball, of course, as my finger had swollen and turned purple by my panicked attempts to yank it off. He didn't understand my hysteria and got my mother. When I managed to explain, still sobbing, that I'd thought he meant cut off my finger...I was in trouble with *both* parents.
That part of me as a child really sucked.
