Having kids is tough. It’s tough on the kids. It’s tough on the parents. And it’s tough on family friends who have to listen to them prattling on about their mundane issues.
Anyway, it’s common for parents to deal with a “problem” child. But what happens when it’s a problem-solving problem child? We’re here to help.
All right? I’ve got this lad, Dave, our son. He’s seven. He’s a lively kid, but there’s something weird about him. Bob, my husband and the boy’s stepdad (his real father, Fred, fled with a slapper to Ibiza a few year back), said to him one Sunday afternoon in the living room when we was watching EastEnders, “Dave… why you so fuckin’ weird?” Dave weren’t happy about that and, in a clear rage, went into the kitchen to fix the leaking tap. Then he came back with a ladle and went and whacked Bob around the head. Next thing I know, Bob’s got him in a headlock and is roaring “You little bastard!” over and over. Anyway, Bob won the fight and Dave had a black eye and sore neck. Clearly furious, he went upstairs to unclog the toilet (Bob’s doing… he likes his pies). Then he came downstairs with the bog brush and jammed it into Bob’s face. I had to physically hold Bob back from chucking Dave out the living room window. Dave was there laughing and going, “You’re a bellend, mate!” And flipped him the middle finger. So I had to hold Bob back from pummelling my son, while chastising my boy (the little shit!) for being such a problem child. What am I gonna do? But what gets me… the problem-solving. He’s a problem child who solves problems. So it’s like the best and worst of both worlds, right, because he fixes problems around the house. But creates new ones, usually with Bob. Who Dave calls, “Balding Bob” And that really pisses Bob off. So it’s a bloody nightmare. I get back home from work (I’m a shoplifter) each day knackered and then I’ve got Bob and Dave kicking off. But then Dave at least sorts out some things that need fixing. Bob just lounges around on the sofa drinking beer and belching. Sometimes I wonder why I married him. Then I remember he blackmailed me into it because of me shoplifting habits. So, should I divorce Bob, or divorce Dave? If that’s even possible? Or should I marry Dave and make Bob my son? Or, should I kick Dave out of the house and tell him to sort his own life out? Or, should Dave and Bob go on, like, a couple’s retreat to work out their problems? Or should I just go on holiday by meself, get a bit pissed, then come home and just leave the tossers up to it? Or, should I have another son, this time with Bob, so that then Bob likes that one more? Or, should I send Dave to a mental institute? Or should I just leave them both, move to Ibiza, and hook back up with Fred, my former husband? Or should I invite Fred here to live with us—me, Dave, Bob, and Fred (and his slapper girlfriend) in this council house in Bolton? Whatever, can you hurry up with your answer? Ta! Cheers, Claire
Hello, Claire. It sounds to us like Dave, your son, is suffering from a condition medical people (such as doctors, librarians, and vets) call “halitosis”.
You should ensure he starts drinking mint mouthwash (preferably Listerine) to take the edge off that.
We should imagine that’ll solve the problem fairly quickly. Then he’ll resort to normal activities you’d typically associate with a six-year-old in Bolton of Greater Manchester—such as indulging in hate crimes and petty theft.
However, should his problem-solving behaviour persist then we agree with your adroit observation about the mental institute. Get him into a straightjacket and pack him off there. Problem solved!