What's your worst story from the,

Throw Home in the Pool, He'll learn how to swim, parenting style.

I had never gone camping before I was 11.

I really wanted to go with my 10-year-old cousin.

My parents took me to the woods and handed us the tent and a half-full bag of ranch Doritos

and like a pack of Bratverse and my 7-year-old sister.

Then they pulled off, leaving us to camp for the first

time alone in the woods with a seven-year-old. It was not a fun weekend. I never went camping again,

but it was apparently fine because that's how my dad and uncle learned. I'm just grateful for the

lack of serial killers and black bears. My dad was notorious for the rub dirt on it method when I got hurt as a kid.

When I was nine, I was in a nasty motorcycle accident out in the desert. I broke and misplaced my

fibula. The bone was protruding from my leg. My dad didn't want to end his desert trip early,

so he told me not to look at it and keep trying to walk.

I was in so much pain any time I'd move, I'd black out.

My brother was so concerned, he urged my dad that we should go home.

My dad finally gave in, but was so drunk, he let my 11-year-old brother at the time drive us out at the desert.

He was so nervous, he hit so many bumps, and each bump I'd black out and then come to again. Once we got home, Dad thought it would be best to sleep it off before going to the

hospital. The next day, I was admitted to the hospital, and my dad was taken into custody by CPS.

My dad, when he decided to give me driving lessons when I was a teenager, which turned out

to be a driving

lesson singular.

He took me to the parking lot across the street from our house, and had me tool around

...