| |
|
Yeah, as kids, my dad enjoyed stuff like that - he liked to dangle me over the stairs and then pretend that he was going to drop me, would think it was hilarious to press spoons onto you that he had just stirred his hot tea with, and thought it was comedy gold to stand at the foot of the stairs while me and my sister walked up to bed, towards a horrible brasss rubbing of a medieval knight picture that hung at the top of the stairs - when we got half way up, he would turn the lights out and shout 'oh my god, his coming out of the picture to get you!'.
Sounds worst than it was, sometimes it was fun, honest. But ultimately he was that kind of dad that friends thought was great, and on paper he was, but I was terrified of the dark up until I was about 29. |
|
|
