Helpful hints and tempting tidbits on how to really screw up your offspring

What? You thought you couldn't possibly damage your child in just a few, short years...Ohhhh, I beg to differ.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011 to drink

My husband and I are human beings. As far as I recall, we produced human children.

Why is it then, that whenever I am operating a vehicle my children morph into wild animals?

I consider myself a champion to even attempt to schlepp my little darlings to any public place.  Every now and then I wake in the morning delusional and auspicious with some crazy plan.  It usually involves the park, the mall or a certain, B-list amusement park.  I dream (foolishly) that we will have memory-making, scrapbook-worthy, good times.  That we will skip together, holding hands and giggling carelessly while unicorns trot by and gnomes sing nursery rhymes.

These dreams must be residuals from my higher younger days.  Reality usually kicks in the minute I put my key in the ignition.

I suffer the ridicule of driving a minivan.  I don't do it for fun or out of obligation.  I do it so my kids can't reach each other. The anguish of driving a fat, dumpy, mom mobile had been tolerable until recently.  Alas, these people are healthy, little fellows and despite my pleads,  have continued to sprout. Though once seemingly yards apart,  their arms now reach just far enough to pinch, punch or pilfer toys.  Their long, grasshoppery legs are long enough and bendy enough to deliver a sweet (seated), roundhouse kick.

"Momeeeeee!  Her foot is in my cupholder!"

"WAHHHHHHHHHH!  He's squeeeeeeezing me!"

"BWAAHHHHH!!!  He took my Doraaaaaaa!"

The assault can also be delivered non physically.

"She's looking at me!!"

"STOP SINGING!  Mama, she won't stop singing!"

"You're a BAD boy.  You're not gonna get treats today!"

...and one of my faves:
"I'm not your FRIEND!!"

The Big One is always bent because "She's staring at me!"  He loves to take this time to remind her that she's a baby and he's not.  That she shouldn't kick Mama's he's pummeling the passenger seat with his size 10s.  The Little One apparently applies butter to her hands before she boards the ship as she cannot hold on to anything once the wheels start turning.

"Mama!  Mama! Mama!  I dwopped my baby.  Get herrrrrrrrr!"

"Uh, uh uh uhhhhhhhhhh!  I dwopped my cup!  I dwopped my CUUUUUUUP!!"


There are some times that they are civil to each other. They try their damnedest to speak quietly so Mama can't hear them. They employ this time to try out some new vocabulary.  

I need a police-style, sound proof partition to shield my ears from their pre-school vernacular. The words that fall from their cherub-like mouths would make a sailor blush.  The constant barrage of  potty words makes me feel unclean.  Where do they hear these words?

I should prepare a Pre-School Potty Mouth Dictionary

Farty Head- One who's skull reeks of flatulence

Poopy Face- Having a likeness to excrement

Booty Licker- One with a propensity to taste hindquarters

Barfer- One who vomits often

I suppose I'm still kind of pre-schooler virgin. In time, God willing,  my ears will grow insensitive to the vulgarity, altercations, rivalry, brawls, thievery and overall bedlam.

Or I will stash a bottle of vodka and a pair of earplugs in my glove compartment.


  1. Go for the vodka and earplugs. Oh and you can add "bummers" to that list of words. It is a bad word to them to replace a word like dammit. Or so I've been told.

  2. Stash the vodka and know that the terms only get more interesting as they get older!