Author's blurb:
Everything in our family was about father - if he was healthy or sick, sour or happy. Everything could go in five minutes. And I never knew when. And then it does not matter how nice we had it together the day before. Dinner was always the worst time of day. There we could not hide or avoid him.
I named one of my teddy bears "little father." I stroked him, put him to bed, and read aloud to him. I comforted him and hugged him tightly to me when he was upset. I gave him a nice meal and told him how much I liked him. And after a while the "little father" was completely healthy again.
At a young age I assumed the role of the "little adult". Half past four I went up to the bus to pick up mother from work and give her a "forecast", as we called it. Whether he slept, was acting crazy, or just drunk.