I’m a fan of dirt oval car racing. One night, a car crashes into the catch fence separating the track from the grandstand area. The fence is damaged, but the track crew inspects it, makes a few minor repairs, and determines that the fence is still safe enough to continue racing.

During the next intermission between races, a few kids — ranging in age from about eight to thirteen — walk up to the fence and start tugging on it around the damaged area. Their parents and guardians are sitting in the front row of the grandstands, completely absorbed in their cell phones and beer. Several other fans start shouting at the kids to stop messing with the fence, but the kids pay no attention.

After only a few minutes, the kids have managed to pull enough wires loose to create a hole in the fence. A track crew member finally sees them and runs over, shouting at the kids to get away from the fence.

The kids leave the fence, but the parents have finally taken notice of what’s happening, and they start screaming at the track crew member to leave their kids alone. The track crew member gathers with a few other members of the track crew, and things pause for about an hour.

As everyone in the grandstand starts getting antsy about the delay, a few uniformed police officers appear in the grandstands and approach the guilty family (the children having returned to their parents after being yelled at by the track crew member). The parents start to argue with the officers, but everyone is interrupted by the track announcer’s voice over the loudspeaker system.

Announcer: “Attention all race fans! Due to the actions of a few children — and the negligence of their parents — the fence has now been deemed unsafe, and the remainder of tonight’s racing action has been canceled. All spectators not involved in the destruction of the fence, please stop by the ticket booth for your choice of a refund of your ticket price or a voucher for next week’s races.”

Naturally, everyone in the grandstands was SUPER angry, and the parents of the guilty children were saved from very likely physical violence by the presence of the police officers surrounding them.

I don’t know if the parents were charged with anything or sued by the track, but seriously, folks. Watch your kids.

CONTENT WARNING: Pet Death

One of the first dogs we had as a pet was a black lab mix. It went horribly wrong. We were little kids, and our parents both worked full-time. There was no training for him. We had a decent-sized fenced yard, but our parents didn’t have time to do walks or anything. The dog kept getting wilder and wilder to the point that we were afraid to be around him because he’d jump on us, knock us down, and then claw and lick us. It wasn’t his fault; he just needed a lot more attention than he got.

I came home from school one day, and he was gone. Mom said they’d found him a new home on a farm where he could run around. Of course, I later found out they had taken him to the shelter, and he had been put down because he was so uncontrollable.

Hello, trust issues!

Fast forward a few years, and we have another dog — a terrier mix. He was super smart, to the point where he was an escape artist.

Finally, parents decided to rehome him because he would not stay in the yard no matter what. My stepdad told me a lady at work had a huge farm, and she was taking him. I was a little hysterical thinking he’d be put down, too.

But this time, it was true. She sent some pics of him to prove he was okay!

My cousin used to own a small café near an elementary school, so most of his revenue came from, essentially, children hanging out there before or after school while parents watched. At the time, game cabinets were still very much in vogue, and colleagues elsewhere in the city claimed that having one covered the operating costs twice over, so he installed one.

The installation did lead to a lot more money coming in, but the exact choice of game — a beat-em-up — coupled with rowdy children did lead to scuffles and rows between pupils, which [Cousin] and his baristas broke up. He did not, however, ever reconsider the idea to keep it.

Then, a couple of parents visited him one morning, demanding that he uninstall the cabinet because their twins had gotten bruises and ripped clothes in the attempt to have a turn, and in their opinion, having a game cabinet in a cafè just outside a school “wasn’t appropriate for children just coming to or leaving school” because “it wouldn’t separate study and play properly”.

[Cousin] shrugged and said he would consider it, and they left, satisfied.

He then installed a second cabinet and posted rules about how to take turns. While this did lead to fewer scuffles, the parents came back with a vengeance, this time claiming that one of the twins had lost three teeth while trying to get a spot and that the video games he chose were making the schoolchildren “too mean”.

[Cousin] answered to take it up with the school. The parents, in turn, tried to start a rumour mill about [Cousin] belonging to an organised crime family trying to recruit, but as [Cousin] was busier managing the place than participating in neighbourhood activities, it didn’t stick beyond a few awkward questions being asked by visiting parents.

They finally called the police, but as the only legally questionable thing was having a cabinet with an age-restricted game on it, [Cousin] got away with a small fine and an order to change the game, which he did without complaint. The parents visited him again, saw that nothing else had changed, and finally gave up.

I overhear a mother who is shopping with her son, likely around three years old.

Young Boy: “Mom! I gotta go potty! Moooom!“

She ignores him and keeps shopping.

Young Boy: *Almost crying* “Moooom! I gotta go!”

Mother: “Stop it, [Young Boy], I’m almost done!”

He cries and runs… dropping a trail of turds out of the leg of his shorts.

Me: “Ma’am, your son has had an accident.”

Mother: “So?”

Me: “You’re cleaning that up.”

Mother: *Stunned* “Why?!” 

Me: “Because the customer washroom is literally fifteen feet away and has been available this whole time…”

My dad could be a strange man, and once he got an idea into his head, it was next to impossible to get rid of it.  

He and Mum lived in a different province. We spoke on the phone every Sunday, but on this particular occasion I was calling on a Saturday, because I had good news that I wanted to share. This is how the conversation went down:

Dad: “Hello?”

Me: “Hi, Dad! I’ve got news! Can you ask Mum to get on the extension so that I can tell you both at the same time?”

Dad: *Immediately suspicious.* “What’s wrong?”

Me: “Nothing! It’s good news, honest. Now, can you put Mum on the extension?”

Dad: “Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

Me: “Nothing is wrong, Dad!”

Dad: “I don’t believe you. You wouldn’t be calling on a Saturday unless you were in trouble of some kind. Now tell me what it is, and I’ll tell your mother.”

We went back and forth like this for a few minutes, with me insisting with increasing desperation that there was nothing wrong, and Dad refusing to go get Mum until I ‘fessed up. Finally, almost in tears from frustration, I snapped:

Me: “Oh for God’s sake! [Boyfriend] and I got engaged last night! I wanted to tell you and Mum together, and now I can’t, because you wouldn’t let me! Happy?”

There was a stunned silence, followed by a meek: 

Dad: “Oh… I’ll go get your mother.”