power of the parent

Hustling parents still made sure I got the best especially in education but that didn’t in any way help as I picked up the most annoying and shameful personality.

I even as a kid would keep late nights without carrying out household chores and when it becomes apparent that I couldn’t escape my parents “do good,” opt to sleep out in trucks and sheds, I would occasionally sneak in and proceed to make under the bed my beautiful foams, this habit was cultivated to mitigate the effect of the surprise floggings mum especially had this habit of using deep into the mornings when she’d flog sleep out of my eyes. By the time she’d drag me out, I’d be fully awake to bear the consequences of my sins. How I managed to stay top of my class in primary school then still escapes me as I’d play my life out on daily basis.

I would pilfer on people, unsuspecting people whose heart I easily warmed up into and would sustain my belly and as such could keep avoiding home.

Oh! God bless my mum and grant my dad eternal rest. I’d constantly make “withdrawals” from their “home banks” and with it, live large in school. And constantly devised various methods to avoid detection. My neatly wrapped note books served as conduits to hide my loots to avoid detection and when that method failed, I resorted to hiding them in shoes, pens, I’d tear up the folds of my shirts and shorts and pass the folded cash into them. God knows if I had continued like that, I would have ended up a highway robber and maybe dead by now.
I was closely marked so I no go do, but two loose seconds were more than enough for me to hit a bounty when need be. I was a nightmare to my parents and at appoint when my dad moved and left us to the care of my mum, my constant acts made my dad make up his mind to come and take him along lest I killed his darling wife with HBP.
It is totally and completely ignoble thing to do, and looking back, I wonder what prompted me into such.

While staying with my dad, he once called me and told me how I was his favorite child. Till date, I still can’t tell how and why, because apart from the consequences of being the black sheep of the family, I was often the last to get gifts as they bothered me not.

Yes, I spent more time with my dad possibly due to the close marking I needed to keep my deviant behavior in check and naturally predisposed to his kind of job, but I still didn’t and haven’t seen how I was the favorite child; but I was deeply touched. He spoke of how my act pains him more than it would have if it were to be from anyone else and it sunk, he also said I wouldn’t stop being his favourite child notwithstanding. Today, thanks to those words, I’d rather dig poo to feed than pilfer on anyone. Well, the house chores are still there but I can at least shout my younger ones into doing them.

My Dad’s words (sweet and not the curses) made me a better person that I am today....

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