Strict Dad Quotes

You’re not gonna believe what just happened to me,” Jase says the minute I flip my cell open, taking advantage of break at the B&T. I turn away from the picture window just in case Mr. Lennox, disregarding the break sign, will come dashing out to slap me with my first-ever demerit. “Try me.” His voice lowers. “You know how I put that lock on the door of my room? Well, Dad noticed it. Apparently. So today, I’m stocking the lawn section and he comes up and asks why it’s there.” “Uh-oh.” I catch the attention of a kid sneaking into the hot tub (there’s a strict no-one-under-sixteen policy) and shake my head sternly. He slinks away. Must be my impressive uniform. “So I say I need privacy sometimes and sometimes you and I are hanging out and we don’t want to be interrupted ten million times.” “Good answer.” “Right. I think this is going to be the end of it. But then he tells me he needs me in the back room to have a ‘talk.’” “Uh-oh again.” Jase starts to laugh. “I follow him back and he sits me down and asks if I’m being responsible. Um. With you.” Moving back into the shade of the bushes, I turn even further away from the possible gaze of Mr. Lennox. “Oh God.” “I say yeah, we’ve got it handled, it’s fine. But, seriously? I can’t believe he’s asking me this. I mean, Samantha. Jesus. My parents? Hard not to know the facts of life and all in this house. So I tell him that we’re moving slowly and—” “You told him that?” God, Jase! How am I ever going to look Mr. Garret in the eye again? Help. “He’s my dad, Samantha. Yeah. Not that I didn’t want to exit the conversation right away, but still . . .” “So what happened then?” “Well, I reminded him they’d covered that really thoroughly in school, not to mention at home, and we weren’t irresponsible people.” I close my eyes, trying to imagine having this conversation with my mother. Inconceivable. No pun intended. “So then . . . he goes on about”—Jase’s voice drops even lower—“um . . . being considerate and um . . . mutual pleasure.” “Oh my god! I would’ve died. What did you say?” I ask, wanting to know even while I’m completely distracted by the thought. Mutual pleasure, huh? What do I know about giving that? What if Shoplifting Lindy had tricks up her sleeve I know nothing about? It’s not like I can ask Mom. “State senator suffers heart attack during conversation with daughter.” “I said ‘Yes sir’ a lot. And he went on and on and on and all I could think was that any minute Tim was gonna come in and hear my dad saying things like, ‘Your mom and I find that . . . blah blah blah.’” I can’t stop laughing. “He didn’t. He did not mention your mother.” “I know!” Jase is laughing too. “I mean . . . you know how close I am to my parents, but . . . Jesus.

She knows her flesh parents are in the stands somewhere. Knows what they're saying, sees the gestures and expressions. Dad trying to use old college logic to make sense of it all. Mom wearing the haunted stare that means she was put on earth strictly to suffer. They're all around us, parents in the thousands, afraid of our intensity. This is what frightens them. We really believe. They bring us up to believe but when we show them true belief they call out psychiatrists and police. We know who God is. This makes us crazy in the world.

Whenever Louise got anxious, her dad always said, You know, Louise, statistically, and there’s a lot of variance in these numbers, but in general, from a strictly scientific point of view, everything turns out okay an improbable number of times.

This is my fault. My dad is kind of strict. There’s been trouble with the family business and stuff. I’ll let Jude take me back home.” When did I become such a huge liar? Trouble with the family business? Was I embroiled in the mafia now?

This may be our only hope,” said Lillian. “Don’t think too long.” Lillian turned and left, the baggy back of her cardigan seeming to sweep behind her like a cape. “I wasn’t kidding. Someone really has to talk to her about her motivational speaking,” said Dad. “She’s meant to be the town leader, isn’t she?” “She’s the only adult sorcerer alive who isn’t strictly evil,” said Rusty. “So she wins the crown by default, I guess. Unless Henry wants it.” Kami supposed Henry was technically grown up, though he was only a couple of years older than Rusty. “Your town seems very nice,” said Henry, in the tones of one being very polite when offered a large unwanted present that was on fire. “But I only just got here. I don’t feel qualified to lead.” “Okay,” said Dad. “So she’s all we’ve got to work with, as Ash and Jared are both so extremely and tragically seventeen. Fine. So what we need to do now is get the town behind her. Worse politicians have been elected every day.” “I don’t think Lillian will be kissing any babies anytime soon,” Holly said doubtfully. “Since she probably hates babies. And kittens. And rainbows and sunshine,” said Angela, who sounded like she had a certain amount of sympathy for Lillian’s viewpoint.

Smiling to myself, I pictured our family one sunny afternoon last fall. It had been a warm day, and we were on our way to the city aquarium. Dad had the car windows rolled down, and I recalled the feel of the wind in my hair and the scent of Mom’s perfume wafting from the seat in front of me. Mom and Dad were chatting and I was scrolling through my Instagram feed. But the moment the song sounded on the radio, I squealed. “Turn it up!” I said, leaning forward in my seat, enough that the belt tightened across my chest. As soon as Dad reached over and turned the knob, I started singing the lyrics aloud. Both Mom and Dad joined in. With the wind in my hair and the music filling the car, a warmth had filled my insides, almost as if I were wrapped in my favorite fuzzy blanket. The memory was fresh in my mind and I could still see Mom’s head bob up and down as she sang while Dad tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Come on, Dad!” I said, giggling. “Sing with us.” He glanced over his shoulder at me. “I’m waiting for my favorite part. I don’t want to stretch my singing muscles.” “What singing muscles?” Mom smiled at him. He put a finger in the air for her to wait. “Here we go.” When the chorus of the song began, Dad screeched out the lyrics in a really high voice. He was trying to mimic the singer’s voice but he wasn’t even close and the sound he made was terrible. I burst out laughing. He ignored me and continued to sing, all the while, waving a hand through the air with wide flourishes, as if conducting an orchestra. He tilted his head back and belted out the high notes. When we pulled up at a red traffic light and the car slowed to a stop, Dad was oblivious of the carload of people alongside us watching him. The passengers of the other car had their windows open too and I stared at them in horror. Their eyes were glued to Dad and they shook their heads and rolled their eyes. “Dad!” I called to him. “Those people are watching you.” But he didn’t hear me and continued to sing. I sank into my seat, my cheeks flushing. He finally realized he had an audience but instead of being embarrassed, he waved to them. “Hello, there!” he said. “Did you enjoy my singing?” The light turned green, and the carload of people cracked up laughing as their car lurched forward in their hurry to escape the weird man in the car next to theirs. Dad shrugged. “I guess not.’ Mom and I burst out laughing too, unable to hold it in any longer. Dad waved a dismissive hand. “They wouldn’t know good music if it hit them in the face.” Tears sprang from my eyes because I was laughing so hard. My dad could be so embarrassing sometimes, but that day, it didn’t bother me at all. Dad had always managed to make me laugh at the silliest things. He had a way of making me feel happy, regardless of what mood I was in. Deep down I thought he was a really cool dad. My friends thought so too. He wasn’t boring and super strict like their dads. He was fun to be around and everyone loved him for it, including my friends. Our little family was perfect, and I wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

That’s sweet of the weatherman to think of me, but it turns out I can’t go.” “No, I just told you you can,” he said, confused. “I’m your dad. That’s how permission works.” He raised an eyebrow. “Do you have an even stricter dad that I don’t know about? We should have weekly meetings, him and I. Get on the same page.” “I can’t go because Mr. Graff gave me a group project with this moody new kid, and I have to work on it over the weekend.” “Ah. School Dad told you that? He’s worse than Strict Dad. Probably should listen to him.

The initial Gracie Jiu Jitsu curriculum consisted of forty self-defense classes that focused on empowering students. The goal was to prepare them mentally, physically, and psychologically for a physical confrontation and to build a foundation of confidence that would give them peace of mind. My dad's handpicked instructors taught a hundred private lessons a day to Brazil's business leaders and politicians. The tuition was expensive, most of the lessons were private, and Hélio kept his instructors on a very short leash. Not only did they have to follow a strict self-defense curriculum, but they were fined for every minute they were late.

If my dad finds out,” Spoon whispered, “well, no revival of Guys and Dolls for me.” He looked back at me. I guess I should have given him an out here. But I didn’t. Maybe because I was that desperate. Or maybe because I don’t like Guys and Dolls. He turned the key, and we stepped into the office. The front desk was tall enough so you could lean on it. Three school secretaries sat there. Going behind the desk was, of course, strictly off-limits, so I confess that I got a thrill when we did just that. Spoon

Appearing in Mummy and Daddy’s room in the middle of the night and claiming to be “scared” is strictly verboten.

My mom was always the strict one, whereas my dad let me get away with a lot of things, which is why whenever I would want to do something, I would always ask my dad first because usually nine times out of ten, my mom wouldn’t agree with whatever it was that I had going on. I

Despite having limited financial resources, the community took pride in working together and accomplishing what they could. Consequently, I don't remember people from the community intentionally damaging school property. This is because they would also be harming something that they helped build, and would have to fix it again. Additionally, they were related to someone who would be affected by the damage. The community strongly disapproved of acts of vandalism or any other inappropriate behaviour within the school premises, and they consistently enforced strict consequences once the offender was recognized.

Sweet and Sour Summers “There is something my parents did, and it was pretty unique. My brother and I refer to it as ‘The Sweet and Sour Summer.’ My parents would send us, for the first half of the summer, to an internship with a relative or a friend of the family who had an interesting job. So, at 12, I went and interned with my godbrother, who is a lobbyist in D.C. I would go along with him to pitch congressmen. I had one tie, and I was a pretty good writer. I’d write up one-page summaries of these bills we were pitching, and I’d literally sit there with these congressmen with these filthy mouths—you know, the old Alabaman senator and stuff like that—and watch the pitch happen. It was awesome. I learned so much and developed so much confidence, and really honed my storytelling skills. “But then, from there, I would come home and work in a construction outfit, in a nasty, nasty job. I mean, hosing off the equipment that had been used to fix septic systems, gassing shit up, dragging shit around in the yard, filling up propane tanks. Just being the junior guy on the totem pole, and quite literally getting my ass kicked by whichever parolee was angry at me that day. I think it was part of their master plan, which was: There’s a world of cool opportunities out there for you, but let’s build within you a sense of not just work ethic, but also, a little kick in the ass about why you don’t wanna end up in one of those real jobs. . . .” TIM: “You had the introduction to the godbrother, for the lobbying. Did your parents also help organize the sour part of each summer?” CHRIS: “The guy who ran that construction company is my dad’s best friend, and he was under strict orders to make sure we had the roughest day there.

What does the Bible say about two or three gathered together?” he asked, not like in Sunday school, where everything was a quiz, but like maybe he just forgot. “‘Where two or three are gathered together, there I am also.’” Dad could sometimes get a smarty-pants look on his face, which I wouldn’t have ever been allowed to do myself. It was a look that said that people were just regularly walking into his traps. “Does it say two or three what?” he asked, looking me in the eye. I thought. Of course it meant people, but that’s not what it said. I shook my head. “Are there two or three of something out here?” he asked, gesturing around us. I nodded. “There are two or three trees, and two or three bugs, and two or three flowers. And us, of course.” “Then this is where God is.” I leaned against his arm. He was wrong about the Bible, and I knew it as well as I knew all the books of the New Testament, in order. Christians were flat-out strict about how everything got read, and nothing was to be scrumbled around unless it was by a preacher. But it was a nice place.

Demi-monde- which is French for “half-world” and an old euphemism, according to Miss Redmayne who teaches humanities, for any sexually active woman who failed to conform to the strict patriarchal gender norms that permeated French society in the dark days before Tinder. Meanwhile, back in the today, the demi-monde is the posh term used to talk about the society of the magical adjacent. This includes people who are naturally magical, what Peter and Nightingale call the fae, people who can do magic, like wizards and ting, and people that hang out with them because…reasons. At the top of the pile are the genii locorum, the tutelary spirits of place. Or what my dad might call river spirits.

What is Anikwenwa doing in my house? What is a worshiper of idols doing in my house? Leave my house!’” (Adichie 70). At this part of the story, the dad is yelling at a person who entered under his roof that was not Christian and contradicted the Christian belief which is worshiping one God. I chose this quote for three main reasons, the first being that as a reader this was one of the first times I was able to see the dad’s other side. Normally, he is portrayed as quiet, strict but it was unknown to what extent he cared about following the Christian beliefs. Secondly, I was taken aback by the character’s development, as the man he is yelling at is a grandfather. I don't quite understand how one would have the heart to do so which is able to show me how strong his beliefs are. Lastly, it truly shows the theme of the story of how closing your minds to other religions, start to tear you down. His closed mindset prevents him from seeing the goodness in other cultures, this failure is what sets him apart and almost acts as a foil for the mother in the story. No exposure to other religions makes him blinder to new/different ideas that may be presented in front of him.