Sounds romantic doesn’t it?
Well, what if I told you it’s the name of my latest parenting trick? You’d be right, it’d be an indication my skills as mom suffer from an unprofessional, unsystematic, nearly epileptic wailing at problems trying to find any solution to whatever the latest issue might be.
That’s right. Recently I’ve been exceedingly irritated by my children’s (mostly my son, actually) inability to fend for themselves in any way, shape or form.
Picture this: McDonald’s (yes, I realize this is a mortal parenting sin in itself, but I’m going with the "if they have access to it, they won’t abuse it later" theory on this one), just pulling away from pick-up window.
Jake–teeth clenched, spit flying from between loose teeth. "I can’t get my pirate open. Mooooommmmm can you open this?????"
Me–"Come on Jake. You can get that open. Stick your fingers into the plastic and pull."
Jake–grunts, pretends to pull, and throws himself against his seat in frustration.
Me–immature eyeroll he may or may not have seen in the rearview mirror. "Are you telling me, Jake Shoop, if you were on a desert Island with no one but yourself and that pirate in his plastic prison that you’d wait for him to mysteriously come to life and sword-fight his way out of the thin polymer coating instead of ripping into it yourself? That’s what you’re telling me?"
Jake–"Whaaaaatttt?" Mouth hanging open.
Me–Exactly. "Go desert island baby…"
Do you see the way I deftly ignore his confusion, act as if he knows exactly what I mean and rudely press him to pretend he’s been abandoned and must fend for himself? It’s genius in its clumsiness, don’t you think? And truthfully, since going desert island at McDonald’s, I’ve been shocked that the principle works in scenarios like, cooking over open fire, changing car tires, sewing buttons on shirts, I mean how could I have waited so long to see the light?
And before you get on your high horses about my parenting, take a look at this woman’s grand plan. Hers is similar, though it involves her nine year old riding a New York subway alone…this lady would love me.
Okay, honestly, this woman would spit on my motherhood if she could, but at least we know there’s room for all kinds. Now back to my pina colada. I’m going Caribbean (sp?) Island while the kids are at school. That’s allowable, right? No need to clean that floor when the kids can do it, right? Right.