I love my kids, I just hate parenting
Detective Munch has been the VIP of my family for the last five years.
He’s the only grandchild my parents have, the only nephew my brothers have, and the only kid Mom and Buried and I have. As such, he’s been living the high life, as the center of attention, the sole attraction, the primary beneficiary. And, mostly, as the getter of the leeway.
But his gravy train is about to crash.
Detective Munch and I haven’t been seeing eye-to-eye a lot lately. We tend to butt heads as is, but lately it’s been a bit intense.
I say stop, he says go! I say yes, he says no! I say up, he says left! (We’re working on his opposites.) Some of it is typical five-year-old defiance, some of it is clashing priorities, some of it is matching personalities.
Thankfully, we do have some common ground.
My son says plenty of ridiculous stuff, but none is more ridiculous than the stuff he says when he’s trying to get out of going to bed.
I know I’m not alone in being both amused and frustrated by the nonsense our kids come up with in attempts to delay their bedtime, especially since Netflix created images based on some of the goofy excuses actual real-life kids have deployed.
They even used one of mine!
My wife’s friends are throwing her a sprinkle, which is both the name of a smaller, not-your-first-kid baby shower and a word I will spend the rest of my life trying to avoid saying.
As one does when generous friends plan to ease the stress and expense of preparing for a major life-changing event, my wife has started a registry. I have not seen this registry, and I may never see it. I may even be fabricating the fact that she even started one. I haven’t been paying attention.
Regardless, I decided to write a baby item wish list of things I think we need for baby #2, some of which are obvious, some of which are outlandish, and a few of which don’t actually exist.
Nobody wants my advice much these days. even though a highly respected and totally anonymous website I’ve never heard of just called me a cross between Louis C.K. and Homer Simpson, which may or may not be a compliment?
I used to run these columns fairly regularly, but now, even when I bang the drum for questions, I hardly get enough to fill the space. Which is a shame, because my advice is not only terrible and potentially damaging, it’s funny and potentially damaging. But without questions, I can offer no answers.
Thus, this may be the last edition of Parental Advisories. You have only yourselves to blame.
Read more about Take This Under Advisement, Jerkweed! – Volume 12 …