I love my kids, I just hate parenting
Parenting is an experiment.
You keep trying new things, seeing what works (nothing) and what doesn’t (everything), and shifting your techniques accordingly until you land on the perfect (read: imaginary) combination and tend to your impressionable child until he sprouts into a flawless adult.
Unfortunately, that’s all a waste of time. Not only because parenting is impossible to game plan, and because it turns out we’re the test subjects.
Sometimes it’s hard to believe how quickly your kid is growing up.
Detective Munch has his last day of preschool today (he can have the ceremony, he can get the diploma, but I’ll be dead in the cold cold ground before I refer to it as graduation!) In September he’ll start Kindergarten, and he can already hold actual conversations and ride a bike and dress himself and brush his own teeth (each with varying degrees of success, but with enough general success that I’m counting them all). He’s still far from being a young man, or even truly independent in any way, but he’s definitely getting there.
At least I thought he was, until I watched him play tee-ball. Because guess what? Turns out there may be no crying in baseball, but there’s plenty in tee-ball.
Disciplining your children can be hard. But with the right attitude, disciplining your children can be a laugh riot!
I love putting my son in time-out, not letting him stay up any later, taking things away from him. Not food or shelter or love (I’m an asshole, not a psychopath!), but toys, and TV, and the other little perks of childhood. I don’t do it to instill values or help make him appreciate what he already has. I don’t even do it because he’s so spoiled already that it serves as a nice change of pace.
While those benefits are all well and good, I like depriving my son of the things he wants because it’s funny and it makes me feel better.
![[E-card] Children are Monsters](https://dadandburied.com/wp-content/themes/llorix-one-lite/images/no-thumbnail-mobile.jpg)
Having kids can occasionally feel like living in a monster movie. Because children are monsters!
When you kid bites you, he might as well be a vampire. When she screams up a storm, she can be as terrifying as a banshee. When they try to wipe their own butt, they often end up looking like a mummy. For the first few years of their lives, they all walk like Frankenstein’s monster.
And every single one of them reduces your home to rubble, like one monster in particular…
I love popcorn.
Last night I actually woke up with a stomachache because I ate too much popcorn. But that won’t stop me from being a popcorn fan, intestinal pain be damned!
I also love Star Wars. I’ve actually woken up in pain at the memory of the prequels. But that won’t stop me from being hopeful about the upcoming movie, Harrison Ford looking 300-years-old/not having been good in a movie in 300 years be damned!
My son also loves both of these things. More importantly, he knows I love them.
I have a bad feeling about this.
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