You hate your child

I subject the Mouse to a lot of shit.

Hard drinking, the smoking, hogging the remote. Playing dead when hungover. Towels on the floor, the occasional dainty fart – standard fare, really.

Worst of all, I think, are the random, lightning, impromptu rants. I can explode at any time (no more fart jokes) and go off about anything. That’s just me.

Yesterday afternoon, for example. Sun was out, so we took a little walk, wandered around, you know how lovers do. Then I saw it, and it happened.

A woman driving to, and parked at, Avondale flea market. With her toddler standing in the middle of the back seat. Leaning forward between the front seats. Talking stories. Unprotected.

That pisses me off. Everytime I see that, or a kid sitting in the front passenger seat, or a baby in the driver’s lap, I freak the feck out.

No matter how careful a driver you are, there is no excuse on this planet to put a child’s life in so much danger. Remember, if it’s not YOU that’s the problem (provided you’re as awesome as you think you are) it’s every other machine out on that road.

Especially on a holiday weekend, when half of Harare drivers are probably off their heads!

Even if you’re just popping down to the shops, what’s the point of going if you’re only gonna come back with a child-sized hole in the windscreen?

If you cannot take the time to put the car seat in the car, or at the very least buckle your kid into a side seatbelt as best you can, then you have no business making kids.

If you can’t practice basic, simple vehicular safety with your child (or any child), you have no business reproducing.

Anything can happen, at any time, and if it does, and your child dies, you should be prosecuted for it.

Because you’re an unfit parent.

And you know it.