Just yesterday I was dispensing my best Calm The Fuck Down advice to a friend, and today TomTom and I have a big fat fight!
He went shopping, wheeled the trolley home (knows he’s not meant to) down a steep footpath under the big fig tree and tipped the trolley. ’30 eggs broken and the bread squashed flat,’ he yells!
Came in in a rage. ‘No-one helps me!‘
Hey Tom, its OK boy.
Gaan’d aan and aaan. ‘No-one even came to help me.’
Well, did you ask us, fella? Did you phone? He didn’t. We should have arrived like knowing fairies.
Rage – so eventually I snapped OK ENOUGH NOW, You cocked up, you didn’t ask for help, it is what it is!
SHUT UP NOW! FFS!
Storms out of the yard.
About an hour later he’s back.
‘Sorry Daddy! I apologise!‘
Me too, fella, I’m sorry. Things happen. We OK?
‘We’re OK. I just lost it when I saw the damage.‘
That’s OK. That’s understandable.