Parenthood: The Beautiful Hostage Negotiation.

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Parenthood.
It’s like signing up for a lifelong hostage negotiation with someone who craps their pants and thinks Peppa Pig is a documentary.

You don’t choose parenthood. You accidentally trip over it. One minute you’re having a cheeky leg over after a few pints, next thing you know you’re Googling “how to remove vomit from suede.”

And they say it’s beautiful. “Oh, the miracle of life!” No, Karen. A miracle is turning water into wine. What I did was turn a night of mediocre sex into 18 years of financial ruin!

Have you ever tried reasoning with a toddler? It’s like debating with a drunk philosopher.  
“Why can’t I eat crayons?”  
“Because they’re not food.”  
“But they’re colours, and colours are fun, and fun is good, so I should eat them.”  
And you’re just standing there, covered in glitter and existential dread.

Then there’s the school run. You’re late, they’ve lost a shoe, and suddenly you’re screaming, “GET IN THE CAR!” like Liam Neeson in Taken.  
“I will find your lunchbox. And I will pack it.”

And then there is the dreaded parenting advice. Every knob head with a blog thinks they’re the Dalai Lama. (Obviously not this knob head, Err I mean blog)
“Don’t say ‘no’ to your child. Say ‘let’s make a better choice.’  
My kid once tried to lick a socket. The only better choice is not dying.

But here’s the Aww factor: You love the little gremlins. You do.  
They ruin your sleep, your sex life, your sanity and then they say, “I love you, Daddy,” and you’re like, “Fine. I’ll keep you another day.”

Parenthood: the only job where you’re paid in macaroni art and emotional blackmail.


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