I love my kids, I just hate parenting
Everybody has that one friend for whom they’re constantly making excuses.
“He’s not normally like this” or “He’s cool once you get to know him” or “He’s got a weird sense of humor.”
After a while, though, it starts to become apparent that despite your friendship, that’s an awful lot of caveats. Maybe it’s time for the guy to start taking some of the blame for his own behavior.
Lately, that’s how I feel about my son.
Despite the fact that I could quote Cape Fear ALL DAY LONG and just pretend I’m having a conversation with my toddler —
“I can out-learn you. I can out-read you. I can out-think you. I can out-philosophize you. And I’m gonna outlast you! ”
— that’s not what the title of this post refers to.
This post is about Other Parents and the way they use their experiences to scare you.
Dear Detective Munch,
It’s time to start pulling your weight.
Don’t worry; I’m not going to make you get a job. You’re only two and a half! The whole talking thing is still new to you (though you have screaming down pat, unfortunately), never mind following orders. Besides, there are laws that prevent it.
But at two years old there are some things you can – nay, must – do, and celebrating Mother’s Day is one of them.
Kids are strange.
Even my own son, whom everyone thinks is my spitting image and whom you’d assume shares some of my personality traits and interests, is alien to me in many ways.
He’s a lot like me, and also a lot like who tf knows.
Yesterday, I wrote about the idiotic gulf that exists between people who have kids and people who don’t. There’s no reason we parents can’t get along with the childless; if I didn’t have childless friends, I’d never be able to escape my own kid! But a year ago, I discussed the one thing in particularRead more about Zombie Post: From the Mouths of (Those Without) Babes[…]