Personal Narrative: Is Dat Daddy

“You’re my grandpa?” she gasps, full of wonder. Her voice sounds more far away as she turns away from the phone, probably towards her father.

Growing up I was extremely close to my father. He was always a tough guy to please, and I aspired to impress him and be the daughter he wanted me to be. Little did I know, my father would end up breaking my heart, and be responsible for tearing my family apart.

Annoyed at this, I turned once again and lay on my back. I took a deep

Initially, Carlos (aka Charlie) was court ordered for treatment to explore his issues with substance abuse, when he was arrested for driving while intoxicated. During subsequent sessions, Charlie spoke of his early childhood struggles with being accepted by his family and his rebellious behaviors. Currently, Charlie still explores his issues with his self-esteem while he blames others for the way he feels about himself. However, Charlie had expressed feelings of anger towards those around him including his girlfriends, ex-wives, manager, directors, and co-workers proclaiming them all as losers and himself as a “Winner!” He has commented to reporters that he has no anger issues and it is everyone else’s problem with the way he acts not his,

“Please, Daddy,” I voiced. Lefty places his hand on my chin, gently tilting up my face and says, “I am going to bury myself so deep inside of you it’ll leave you feeling empty when I’m not with you.” A flood of lust and desperation came over me as he spoke those words. An inferno smolders deep within me with every look, every touch, all it takes is his kiss to cause an explosion of desire to consume me. I lick my lips, impatient for more as I whisper, “I have been a very naughty girl, Daddy. Teach me how to behave.” Lefty pronounces a smug chuckle and speaks, “Now, now, what have I told you about that? Your first punishment is, nothing. I will not touch you, caress you or tease you. I will not give your body the pleasure it is eager for. We

“ My mom is gonna see me and she will try and break the window and jump at him and she would begin falling and I would have to save her. Then I will be stuck with her forever again.”

I remember it like it was yesterday. It was in a park, bright and sunny out , I was feeling every kind of emotion there was to feel. I didn’t know what to expect or how I was going to react. My mom was right next to me looking calm as ever. How did she do it? Suddenly, I see a car pull up and a taller, muscular man steps out. That’s the very first time I met my biological dad.

My dad is the perfect picture of the “American Dad.” He plays football in the yard, has “a talk” with any boy before they are allowed to date me, and considers grilling a fine art; so, when he informed my family that we would be embarking on the “Good Ole American Family Road Trip” I was not even slightly surprised. Me being the travel enthusiast that I am was overjoyed at the idea of travelling to other states and experiencing things that I had not yet seen, but I was also weary at the thought of spending almost two weeks straight in a car with my family.

I laid down on the white, musty bedsheets next to my ailing mother. This was her fourth trip to the hospital in a month. I was only six at the time and wasn’t really sure why I was in this room waiting for the doctor to come back, but I knew I had to be there for my best friend. I snuggled up closer on her right side and mustered up the courage to ask the question I had been wondering all month.

It was a normal day Brayden, Seth and I just got done with basketball practice. We were wondering if we had plans for the remainder of the day.

My father is profoundly wise in the topic of athletics. He knows more ways to get stronger, faster, or even more flexible than anyone I have ever encountered. Putting this knowledge with my determination, we made a rigorous workout plan that we would do at home every single night. One note to make, is that my dad was not forcing me to do these workouts in any way. He asked me if I still wanted soccer to be as exhilarating as it was when I was younger, then I needed to put the time in to my craft every day. Soccer is in my blood, and I was not ready to give it up yet. The workouts were composed of mile runs on the treadmill, medicine ball exercises, and leg strengthening drills. After the preliminary week of this aspiring effort to to achieve

As part of my EDUC 2204 class, we are required to go out into the community and create experiences that enhance our own learning. The first lab I conducted was about understanding parental socialization by interviewing a parent. I had absolutely no desire to interview my own parent because I didn't want any questions or answers to feel biased or skewed. (I am sure I wouldn't agree with most of my mom's answers anyway). Instead, I chose to interview a former professor who I admire tremendously. Steven Hall was a professor at Idaho State University in the Department of English and Philosophy. He recently received a new title at ISU as part of the First Year Experience team. Mr. Hall will now be helping mentor first year students and assist them in their transition to university life. While in class, he had mentioned a few times about his young son and when the assignment came up, I knew who I wanted to interview.

dad sends his son a dick pic by mistake and his son pranks him. The dad sends the and says call your aunt Linda it’s her birthday the son says okay dad will do dad, sorry hit the wrong button son, WTF dad, how do you delete text photos I’m sorry son that was an accident please delete. son, Jesus Christ. Dad, do not tell your mother.

My son is a software professional with a master's degree in USA (computer Science 2010 to 2012) and he has been working in private sector Texas from last 4+ years. currently he is in Hyderabad for project work for four months and We come from an upper middle class, nuclear family background with traditional values.

I remember talking on the phone with my dad in elementary school and my friends asking me, “Who is ‘Baba’?” or, “Why do you call your dad ‘Baba’?”. Although I was born an American, moments like those made me feel like an alien. I became so ashamed of this language, which I love so dearly today, that I started calling my dad “Dad.” Needless to say, the “Dad” kick didn’t last very long- it just didn’t feel right to me.