You look down at your report card, lined with perfect, if not, passing grades. Your blood begins to boil. Why is nothing ever good enough for him?

You tried to show him the awards you got at school, and he just dismisses you, saying--

"Look, whatever it is, just go. I've got work."

You've tried everything so he could be proud, good grades, multiple awards from school.

"Dad's got work, sunshine. Out."

He grits his teeth, his hands tightly gripping the paperwork he's holding.