To me, Helen

I need to remember that my dad is a bastard who doesn't know how to deal with emergencies.

Never again am I going to let him deal with stuff regarding time.

Previously when a car door closed on my finger... oh yeah, pleasant memory, that one. He went and parked the car properly while I was crying like fucking shit and my finger turned black. He walked back to where I was running cold water over my finger. Note: WALK.

And so, today my brother was dancing on the carpet and tripped. He hit his head on the TV stand thing and a huge bump appeared. Seriously big, like maybe three cm plus across and two plus cm down. Thickness... well I don't know about that but the bump looks like it's going to split his head open or something.

Of course when that kind of things happen, you run around trying to get ice and stuff before the poor victim dies of some swelling or things like that.

And of course when a little kid hits his head he starts having a tantrum, screaming and yelling about how much it hurts, and NO he doesn't want ice because ice is too cold.

Well.

My dear father yelled at me not to shout (the only way to be heard above my brother's screams) and grabbed my shoulder, pushed me out of the room, and closed the door after that. My mum followed me out so in the end there was him and my brother in the room. Oh and wait, did I mention that my dad doesn't think it very super-duper important to put ice on the fucking bump? And not wait until the kid has screamed his lungs out and the bump becomes so big that a doctor is complete necessary in the case that he wants my brother to survive?

Great. Plus it HURT when he pushed me out.

Right now I'm settling for pissed and hurt. Later I might just conveniently forget to tell him that anyone's injured.

Yup. I need to remember this. Don't want anyone to be dying of a minor injury just because he handled it.