Friday, December 30, 2011

Shit My Kids Ruin

I was a kid once. I've ruined a few irreplaceable family portraits and tubes of lipstick in my time. If only I knew the power of devastation that lay at my fingertips if I just tried a little harder. I salute these Satanic children for ruining far more than I ever did:

Shit My Kids Ruined. Photographic reality of day-to-day parenting (that you never see in the movies).

I have several friends who are pregnant or planning on being pregnant soon. They all idolize parenting and children, and have lengthy discussions on how they will do such fabulous jobs of parenting their children. They'll never be angry, they'll never miss a soccer game, and they would never, ever leave their child unattended. (That woman whose toddler died because she got up from her nap, took her mother's car keys, and locked herself in the car during the summer while her mother was sleeping--shame on that woman for ever taking a break!) Oh no. Those people who complain of their DVD players being ruined or walls crayoned, why, they're just poor disciplinarians who don't keep an eye on their children.

I just laugh, because in this regard, my friends are idiots. Their children will hurt themselves, and they will destroy things. Many things.

Prepare to have crayons, paint, shaving cream, peanut butter, sodas and candy smeared into your chairs, cars, carpets, computers and walls. Hope you didn't care too much about that TV, or laptop, or couch--oh, and sorry about your car. Get used to pee, poo and vomit on pretty much everything, and set aside many hours a week to clean and repair. Oh, it's all so worth it.

Yeahhhhhhh, think I'll pass. My home and my vehicles are a safe haven of calm and order, and I prefer my life that way.


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