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Cavalry to the rescue

There is a certain crazed energy in a 5 year old that is terrifying and awesome to behold.

There is also a certain vibe you get from a mom that is just burnt out and done with it all.

Its in her stare, her lack of reaction, no matter what that evil little beast does to her that tells the world on a very primal level – “I DON’T GIVE A FUCK!”

The 5 year old, let’s call him Damian. (If you get that, kudos. If you don’t, you are too young and I didn’t write that for you.

Damian has so far run face first into two tables, 1 door, the counter and 3 people.

He is definitely the type of kid who wears a helmet but isn’t on a team. (Are you following this?)

Let’s hope mom left his helmet at home because this kid is not going to have a brain left by noon.

Mom is sitting at a table, cell phone in hand, not texting, just holding it.

There is a glassy eyed stare that they would have called “Shell-shocked” in WWII.

5 year olds can do that to you.

Once again, I am unbelievably grateful that my children are grown.

I don’t have that kind of energy anymore.

Much less the kind of energy that could handle the kind of sugar-fueled, hillybilly inbreeding responsible for Damian’s little one man show.

Mom is still in her chair, as out of it as if she was Michael Jackson an hour after taking his bedtime “Jesus Juice”. (For the record, Propofol is not available as an added shot in your latte at Starbucks…. Nothing? Jeez, Google it, you people are pathetic.)

If I were Damian, at this point, the police would be feeding my mother into the back of a squad car for my murder and taking statements from witnesses. (Odds are, no one would remember seeing anything. Mom puts that kind of fear into people when she gets rolling.)

In lieu of my mother, the cavalry has arrived in the form of a middle aged woman shaped roughly like a bowling ball.

Damian ran head on into her and kind of bounced off.

Before he could get up, she grabbed him by the hood part of his little hoodie and lifted him off the ground.

It was like the human version of a momma cat picking up a kitten by the scruff of the neck.

She carried him across the room and plopped him down in a seat next to his mom, who until this moment, I had not realized how ridiculously you she was. (See also – Children raising children)

Mom looked a little more alert, but was still silent.

Before she went back to the line to get her coffee, she pointed an angry chubby finger at Damian.

“You get out of that chair, I will spank your bottom.”

It was an awesome moment.

It was also one that I hope she didn’t go to jail for.

Sadly we live in this hyper sensitive society that is a pale comparison of what it used to be.

Take a good look at any protest going on and you get a good look at the fascism of the politically correct freedom. (Inverted McCarthy-ism is never pretty to look at. There is a primal schadenfreude that lingers in the back of your head if you think too long about it. Even if you dig it in a sick way for the short term, it wears on you. Like an existential migraine that you just can’t shake.)

But enough of that.

The awkward feeling that was permeating the room has begun to fade, and the world has returned to homeostasis.

Plus, my coffee just arrived, so all is well.

Mmmmm coffee.

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Posted by on March 3, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

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The problem is that your dumb.

When I was growing up Evelyn Wood was a unicorn.

Let me explain.

Evelyn Wood Reading Dynamics was a speed reading course who’s commercials played non-stop on the radio and the pre-cable low end channels, 5 and 9.

The reason she was a unicorn was that, despite the fact that her program was advertised everywhere, I never found anyone that had actually bought it.

Till now.

There is a lady at the next table at Starbucks that is averaging a page every 8 seconds.

Its pretty impressive.

She has 3 books on her table and I have no doubt she will finish them today.

And then what does she have planned?

Cure cancer? Bring about world peace? Fix the economy?

And then, when she got up to go to the bathroom, and hit me up for some change because “I need to get something to eat” it occurred to me exactly what her plans were.

Meth.

Glad thats out of the way, I hate unsolved mysteries, both the show and in life.

While I am thinking about it, some mothers need to be shot.

Just wanted to get that out there while I am still looking at the 300 pound 7 year old in line with his mother.

And I am sure that if you confronted mom she would peddle some song and dance about thyroid issues and such.

However, there is not a 7 year old alive that needs 3 cranberry/orange scones in one sitting.

The kid is not fat, he is being created in a fat image.

He is going to have to deal with mom’s sloppy parenting skills for the rest of his life.

I wish you well kid, your battle will be an uphill one at best, if the battle can be won at all.

To many times I have run across the parent that has no clue how to parent.

They want to be their child’s best friend.

Good ambition, but that comes later.

Till then, give “Being a parent” a shot.

Set some boundaries, smack a few asses and ground them a few times.

When my kids were little, there was a friend that informed me that I was too strict and that I needed to be more of a friend, let them make their own mistakes.

Lets roll 15 years later.

Both of my kids turned out awesome, the boy has a solid career, doesn’t touch drugs by choice, and his sister is an A student with a solid head on her shoulders. I have a good relationship with both.

Arrogantly proud father here. I am a bit of a dick about it.

The friend with the parenting advice? Both kids went down that drug road and have little to do with their parents.

So, when I throw out some wisdom, understand that I only do so because I know more than you do.

Accept it and lets move on.

Thinking of getting one of those scones, they are so tasty.

I will have to buy my own.

Because you know that kid won’t share with me.

 
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Posted by on February 24, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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Don’t take this personal, but I hate your kids.

I hate your kids, you know who I mean.

And just a tip? If I am in line at Panera Bakery, trying to think of something to write about, don’t show your ass with your rotten little progeny right in front of me.

I think it was when the 5 year old shouted “NO!” and slapped mom across the face the first time that I began paying attention.

The little girl has wild hair to the middle of her back and a set of lungs when she wants them.

Screaming and beating on the bakery case window is what got mom to drop to one knee and begin talking low to the child.

And thats when little missy decided she’d had enough of mom’s shit.

Whack! Take that bitch!

And here is the interesting part, mom was not shocked.

Let me roll that one past you again, MOM. WAS. NOT. SHOCKED.

All told, mom got smacked a total of 3 times.

Twice in line and once at the table.

I have a lot wrong with this.

First of all is the fact that mom is a fucking moron and should never have allowed that chubby little hand to land.

It sets a precedent and somewhat empowers the little monster to do it again when she gets the chance.

Plus the fact that dodging a hit from a 5 year old doesn’t require cat-like reflexes.

Had I tried that kind of mini assault on my mother growing up, she would have torn that arm from my torso and beaten me half to death with it.

And I would have had it coming.

In this instance, mom has it coming.

I am not really going out on a limb here when I suppose that this rotten little beast has no boundaries at home.

So, if the first time she has any sort of a leash put on her is when she is in school or a restaurant, we are all subjected to the thoroughly ineffective parenting of Mr. And Mrs. Dipshit foisted upon us in the form of Little Miss Dipshit.

Lucky us.

I have always been of the opinion that my children (And a select few others) are basically the only pretty and intelligent kids out there, and this dysfunctional group is only proving my point.

My son and daughter set the loose cannon bar as kids, (Nowhere near as bad as me) but I would never hesitate to take them anywhere.

Because they had boundaries.

Boundaries are the negative buzzword among what passes for the modern day, “Dr. Spock” parents.

Don’t tell your child no, avoid anything unpleasant as a result of their behavior, and GOD FORBID you smack that rotten little bitch on her backside for giving mommy a little tune up on the side of her face.

Someone needs to take mom aside, smack her hand, hard, tell her “No!” and when she opens her mouth to protest, take two fingers that tap her on the lips. “Shut your mouth! Go to your room!”

Sometimes modern thought and theories suck huge balls and old school is not only wise, its effective.

Applesauce, bitch.

 
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Posted by on January 6, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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