Bad parenting confessions

All parents are prone to making a few mistakes. Photo / Thinkstock

You've got to love a good parenting fail.

Twenty-seven examples can be found here. Confessions include:

"My daughter's first word was 'sh*t'."
"I cracked his head on the door frame."
"I sent my first grader to school dressed up in full pirate costume. Turns out Pirate Day wasn't until Thursday."
"My daughter used condoms as toys."
"My son ate poop!"

It's just about enough to make you feel like a good parent in comparison. Except I reckon that almost every mother and father must have done something to their offspring that makes them seriously doubt their aptitude for parenthood.

You see, contrary to popular belief, flawed people don't suddenly turn into paragons of virtue when they have kids. Quite naturally, we bring our own hang-ups and idiosyncrasies into our new roles. Like parents everywhere, we inflict our special brand of strangeness on our own children. Thanks to us, our kids are destined to keep therapists of the future gainfully employed.

One of the most cringe-worthy parenting fails I've witnessed is when a dad (is it always a dad? I'm not sure) puts his small child up on his shoulders. It's all great fun until they pass through the doorway of a café or a shop - or beneath a low-hanging sign. I've seen little children virtually knocked unconscious while the father remains oblivious to its plight; the dad is still feeling like a hero. Note to dads: shoulder rides should be reserved for open spaces not built-up city streets.

Another dad-thing is to leave keys in the car when they exit it, thus allowing a fidgety unrestrained sprog to lock itself in. (Seriously, I think women take the keys with them thus averting even the potential for such a crisis.) I once overheard the aftermath of a child locked in a car while its frantic parent was outside. The soundtrack went like this: "Unlock the door. Unlock the door. Unlock the door. Please unlock the door for Daddy." It was on repeat for maybe an hour until help arrived.

I'm one of those hardliners who reckon people should be granted a permit before they're allowed to go ahead and procreate. It would save so much bother. Such a privilege should not be bestowed upon those unfit to parent. Dog licence, driver's licence, baby licence - why ever not?

If I'd had to apply for permission to breed, I don't imagine I'd have had much luck. I was never a natural born mother and over the years I've inflicted some pretty random behavior on my daughter.

I've threatened her with corporal punishment: "We're in Spain now and you're allowed to hit children here".

I've told her lies; weirdly, I once implied that chickens commit suicide before we eat them. It still makes no sense almost four years later. What can I say? I must have panicked.

I have deprived her too. Evidently, my daughter is the only student in year eight at her school who doesn't have a smartphone. I think it does her good to do without sometimes. "Does everyone know you as the girl without a phone?" I asked. She nodded sadly. I'm showing my age but in my first job in 1987 the computer system to run the company took up an entire room. Now 12-year-olds expect to have the power to start a nuclear war in their back pocket. There's something not right about that.

Yet my failures pale into insignificance compared to some of the sights on the internet where children are given tattoos, are duct-taped to a wall, are taught to pole-dance, are suspended from trees and are carried by the ankles.

Some parents post photos on Facebook of their tiny children posing with cigarettes and cans of beer.

Parenting fails, clearly, are limited only by the imagination (and lack of common sense) of the mums and dads concerned.

Join the conversation on the Herald Life Facebook page