Tom from England loves showing affection to his young son, Roman. However, when their sweet moments were shared on social media, not everyone was happy.
Some people criticized Tom for kissing his five-year-old son on the lips, accusing him of confusing his child. But Tom, from northern England, isn’t backing down. He’s using humor and simple logic to fight back against the trolls. Roman supports his dad, telling the critics, “You are all crazy!”
The bond between a parent and child is special and helps shape the child’s morals, principles, and personality. Every parent has their own way of raising their children, influenced by factors like culture, socioeconomic status, health, or personal preference.
Tom, from Yorkshire, England, is a loving father of two. He doesn’t let the negative comments from trolls affect his parenting style. He often posts videos on TikTok and gets a lot of attention from women who admire his blue eyes, accent, fit and tattooed body, and most importantly, his love for his sons, 5-year-old Roman and Raphael Reign, who was born in mid-May 2023.
A lot of Tom’s videos on TikTok show him addressing accusations that he’s confusing Roman and putting him in danger of strangers or infections.
But Tom won’t give up.
On June 27, a user told Tom, “Just gorgeous both but don’t kiss him on the lips.” Tom responded by saying he would continue showing his five-year-old son love as long as Roman allowed it. Tom said, “I find it worrying that it bothers you. I will kiss my son, my five-year-old child, on the lips for as long as I deem necessary and as long as he lets me, right, because I love him to bits and he’s my best pal. One day he won’t want me to, and he probably won’t want much to do with me. So, for now, I’ll carry on as I am.”
Fans shared supportive comments like, “Love kisses with my kids and now my granddaughter–the people who think it’s wrong are the worry xx.” Another person, who lost her father, said: “Absolutely ridiculous! I always kissed my dad on the lips, and I lost him 2 years ago. I wish I could cuddle him and kiss him again.”
Tom replied to the kind comments, saying, “He is the most loving little boy, and it’s because we raise him with love. Thank you for these comments.”
However, one user’s outrageous accusation got a quick response from Tom. The person wrote, “Shouldn’t kiss him because of the bacteria in your mouth. Did you know you can make your child more susceptible to cavities if you have them and kiss them?”\
In a popular post with almost 123,000 likes, Tom shared a witty message: “Wow. So if I kiss my 5-year-old son on the lips, he’ll get cavities. He’ll get cavities from his daddy kissing him.” Tom then asked Roman what he thought. Giggling, Roman replied, “Don’t be silly!” and kissed his dad on the lips.
Fans had a lot to say about the unfounded claim that Tom kissing Roman could cause cavities. One person wrote, “Omg …who educated that person…you kiss away, you two,” while another added, “That is soooo ridiculous…and I work with a dentist. Carry on being the loving dad you are… your son is so cute.”
In early July, Tom posted a viral video of him and Roman sitting in a car, with nearly 579,000 likes. In the video, Tom said, “Don’t worry. Absolutely nothing’s going to change.” He then turned to his son and asked, “Roman, what do you think of people who say you shouldn’t kiss me on the lips?”
Roman responded emphatically, “You are all crazy. That’s my daddy!” The video ended with the pair sharing a sweet kiss.
Fans jumped in defending the cause of his post, and supporting the father, one writes, “Some people are just sick he is adorable and would soon tell ya when he gets older if he didn’t like it.” Another writes, “we kiss on the cheeks in my culture, but i really love that father-son relationship.”
One user chimed in and speaking to the Yorkshire father’s trolls, she asked “have you a problem with him kissing him on the lips because he is a man? Because if this was his mom, I’m sure you wouldn’t.”
Responding to the comment and thanking the woman for highlighting the issue, Tom said, “I’ve genuinely been curious about this because it’s something I’ve thought about too. I don’t think anyone would say anything if it was a mom kissing her little boy. For some reason, when it’s a dad kissing his son, people always have something to say, and I don’t understand why—it’s always this weird minority.” He added, “I’m glad a woman brought this up, so I really appreciate that. And I’m not changing anything.”
In another video, Tom looks visibly frustrated as he responds to a comment suggesting that kissing his son could make the boy vulnerable to dangerous strangers. The commenter wrote, “Don’t kiss your children on the lips, fact. Because not all humans have the right intentions. Do you see what I’m saying? Don’t make it acceptable!”
Tom joked in his response, “So the logic here is, if I kiss my five-year-old, he will think that he can go off and it’s okay to kiss strangers, strange adults… obviously!” Holding back his laughter, he continued, “So let’s apply that logic. I can’t have him in my car anymore to take him places because he could get in a stranger’s car and think that’s normal. He can’t live in my house anymore…well he could just walk into a stranger’s house and think that that’s normal.”
Then, the devoted dad suggested a different approach: “Or we could, now hear me out, we could… teach him that he’s got a mummy and a daddy and kissing them is normal but kissing dodgy Barry down the road is a bit weird.”
Most people in his online community support Tom and love seeing the affection he shows his son. They’re happy that Tom doesn’t back down to online trolls who have no right to tell him how to parent.
What do you think about dads kissing their children on the lips? Do you think it’s okay for moms to do the same?
My Halloween decorations kept getting stolen and ruined, but my world was turned upside down when I discovered who was behind it
I had just moved to a new town, hoping for a fresh start, but my neighbor Catherine made sure to ruin everything. She complained constantly and even stole my Halloween decorations. Determined to catch her in the act and get revenge, I set up a camera. What I discovered was far more shocking than I ever expected.
I had just finished setting up the Halloween decorations at my new house, feeling a little proud of how it all looked. Orange pumpkins, spider webs, and cute ghosts lined the front yard, ready for the kids who would come trick-or-treating.
It felt good to be settled after moving to this town just a month ago. My job was great, the house was cozy, and the town itself seemed charming—except for one thing: my neighbors.
Since the day I moved in, it felt like they had it out for me. It started with small things—comments about where I parked or how I didn’t trim my bushes the “right way.”
They would glance at me disapprovingly if I said “hi” in a way they didn’t like. It didn’t take long for the hostility to grow. One evening, they even called the police because I had my music on—at 7 p.m.! I couldn’t believe it.
The worst of them all was Catherine, who lived across the street. She was relentless, always coming over to complain about something. Once, she even stole my flowerpots, claiming they “didn’t fit the neighborhood vibe.”
I was beyond frustrated. Still, as I looked at my newly decorated house, I hoped at least this would be left alone. Just one thing that could bring some joy.
I’ve loved Halloween for as long as I can remember. It wasn’t just about the decorations or the candy; it reminded me of simpler times, warm childhood memories.
But this year, it felt different—darker. There was a hole in my heart where my dreams of having children used to be. It hurt to know I’d never create those special memories for my own kids.
Halloween, though, allowed me to heal a little, one bag of candy at a time. I poured it into a pumpkin, setting it out for the kids, and went inside, hoping for the best.
The next morning, my heart sank. All my decorations were gone. The only pumpkin left had been smashed, and the candy stolen. Tears welled up as I covered my mouth, overwhelmed by frustration and sadness. This was too much. I wasn’t going to let it slide. I knew who had done it, and I was determined to make her pay!
I stormed across the street and pounded on Catherine’s door, my anger bubbling over.
“Catherine! Open up! You’re a real witch!” I shouted, not caring who else heard.
After a few moments, the door flew open, and there she was, glaring at me.
“Have you lost your mind?” she yelled, hands on her hips.
“What did you do with my decorations?” I demanded, my voice shaking with fury.
“I didn’t touch your stupid decorations! Though they looked awful, if you ask me!” she shot back. “But I’m not ruining Halloween for the kids.”
“Just like you didn’t steal my flowerpots?” I screamed, stepping closer.
“Maeve, you’re crazy! You have no proof it was me!” she shouted, her face red. Then, with a loud slam, she shut the door in my face.
I stood there, shaking. “Witch!” I yelled at the closed door.
As I stood there, I realized that some of the neighbors had come outside, watching the whole scene. Their curious eyes were fixed on me, and I could already imagine the whispers behind my back.
They probably thought I was the crazy one now. I just wanted to do something nice for Halloween, and it had all been ruined. My throat tightened, and I could feel the tears building up again. Without another word, I turned and walked back home, my chest heavy with sobs.
Inside, I sat down, wiping my eyes. I couldn’t let this go. Halloween meant too much to me. I refused to let Catherine or anyone else destroy it. That evening, I made up my mind.
I went to the store, buying new decorations and candy. When I finished putting everything back up, I carefully placed a small camera among the decorations. This time, if she messed with them, I would have proof.
In the middle of the night, I woke up to a strange noise. My heart raced as I looked out the window. All my decorations were gone. Again. Anger bubbled up inside me as I quickly threw on my slippers and rushed outside.
The cool night air hit my face as I ran to grab the camera I had set up earlier. This time, I was sure I would catch Catherine in the act.
I hurried back inside and turned on the video. My eyes narrowed, ready to see Catherine, but to my shock, it wasn’t her. Instead, it was a boy—no older than 12—taking my decorations and candy. I stared at the screen, confused. I didn’t recognize him from the neighborhood.
Without thinking, I grabbed my coat and followed the direction the boy had gone. I passed house after house, but none of them seemed like his home.
I knew all the local kids, and he wasn’t one of them. Finally, I found myself standing in front of an old, abandoned house. A strange feeling came over me, urging me to go in.
Inside, it was dark and cold, the air damp and heavy. I pulled my cardigan tighter, my steps careful on the creaky wooden floors. Suddenly, I saw a faint light coming from a room. I walked in and froze.
There, huddled together, were two children—the boy from the video and a little girl, barely four years old. They were trembling, surrounded by my Halloween decorations.
“Please, don’t turn us in to the police!” the boy cried, his voice shaking. “My sister loves Halloween, but we don’t have any money. I didn’t want to steal, I swear! You just had the best decorations,” he said, his eyes wide with fear.
I stood there, staring at them. Two small kids in this awful, broken house. They looked so scared, and to be honest, I was scared too. The decorations didn’t matter anymore.
“Why are you here? Where are your parents?” I asked.
“We don’t have any,” the boy replied. “We ran away from our foster parents because they weren’t treating us right.”
I knelt down to their level, trying to understand. “What are your names?”
“I’m David, and this is my sister, Nicole,” he said, putting his arm around the little girl.
“My name is Maeve,” I told them, trying to sound reassuring. “You can’t stay here. It’s too cold. Come with me.”
David looked up at me, fear in his eyes. “Are you going to call the police?”
I shook my head. “No. I’m going to take you home,” I said, reaching out my hands to them both.
David and Nicole had been staying with me for several days now, and during that time, I had learned more about them through social services. It broke my heart to hear that their foster parents hadn’t even reported them missing.
How could anyone just forget about two children? I knew right then that there was no way they could go back. So, I filed the paperwork for temporary custody.
It was a bit of a process, but the social worker said the kids could stay with me even while we waited for everything to go through. That was a relief—I wasn’t ready to let them go.
The kids were amazing. At first, Nicole was so quiet, barely saying a word. She would just sit by herself, hugging her little stuffed bunny. But as the days went by, I saw her slowly start to relax.
She began to smile, laugh, and even talk a little. David, too, seemed happier. He helped me around the house, always asking if there was anything he could do.
Having them there made the house feel different—warmer, more alive. I hadn’t realized how empty it had felt before. It was as if David and Nicole had always been a part of my life.
In the evenings, I would read them bedtime stories. Every time, I felt tears welling up. I never thought my dream of having children would come true in such an unexpected way. But here we were, and it felt right.
On Halloween night, there was a knock at the door. Expecting trick-or-treaters, I smiled as I opened it, but instead of kids in costumes, I saw two police officers standing there.
“Can I help you, officers?” I asked, feeling my stomach drop a little.
“Your neighbor reported some strange screaming coming from your house,” one of the officers said. I followed his gaze across the street, where Catherine stood, arms crossed and a smug grin on her face. Of course, it was her.
Just then, a loud shout echoed from inside my house. I smiled sheepishly. “Oh, that. I’m showing the kids a scary movie for Halloween. You know, something fun for the night,” I explained, stepping aside. “Would you like to come in and check?”
The officers nodded and followed me inside. As we walked into the living room, one of them asked, “Are these your children?”
“Yes,” I said, the word slipping out naturally. “These are my children.”
It was the first time I had said it, but I realized it was true. In such a short time, they had become my family. I couldn’t imagine my life without them now.
The officers glanced at David and Nicole, who were sitting on the couch, eyes wide as they watched the scary movie. Every so often, they would pull the blanket over their heads, then peek out again.
The officers smiled, clearly seeing there was nothing wrong. “Have a good evening, ma’am,” they said, heading out the door.
As they walked out, I stepped onto the porch and waved at Catherine, who was still watching from across the street.
She looked furious, her face red with frustration. With a loud huff, she stomped her foot and marched back inside. I couldn’t help but smile to myself.
The next morning, I did what I had been thinking about for days—I applied to adopt David and Nicole. From that point on, I never spent another holiday alone. Every day was filled with laughter, love, and the warmth of family. I finally had what I had always dreamed of: I could call myself “Mom.”
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