My wife and I had an interesting conversation last night… I guess that’s not exactly right; my wife said some interesting things at me while I sat, head in hands, trying to internally list all the reasons why I shouldn’t try to sell my three year-old on the black market. Yeah, that definitely describes the situation better.
Anyway, yesterday, I had not only found the end of my proverbial rope but I was trying to find a way I could hang myself with it, just so I could get some peace and quiet. In other words, it wasn’t the best of days. And this was before my wife got home and we had to go shopping. (Shopping with my children, especially the three year-old demon spawn, is a whole new layer of frustration. Something about a store, particularly Target or Wal-mart takes my usually “high-spirited” children to a level where even the most crunchy, peaceful hippy type parents turn to each other and talk about how our kids just need a good ass woopin’. I think it’s the fluorescent lights.)
So we went shopping, and by time that ordeal was over I was so angry and frustrated with demon spawn that I was sputtering incoherently and yelling in everyone’s general direction, which of course lead to the kids to react in their usual way when I get to this point, laughter, because I’m obviously the least intimidating man on the planet.
“Daddy’s overflowing with frothing rage. It’s funny. I dare you to go punch him in the balls!”
“No, you punch his balls. Tehe! BALLS! BALLS! BALLS! Punch daddy in the BALLS! Hahaha!”
My wife, who was sweet enough keep her own laughter to small hidden chuckles, sent the boy’s out of the room and had me sit down so we(she) could talk.
“Remember when you worked and I was home all day with a three year-old and a baby. It was awful, just awful. What helped was taking them out everyday. I mean, I was always nauseous because I never knew what kind of terrible things would happen or when he would have a complete break down. And we could never stay through an entire class or activity. And all the other parents would stare, judge and whisper to each other but, you know we were out of the house and he eventually grew out of it when he was around five…”
“Well that’s only a year and half or so…” I said slowly and quietly from behind clenched teeth.
My sarcasm can be very subtle at times, even to the people that know me best.
So, if anyone is interested in a three year-old child, I’ve got one for sale. He’s quiet, polite, never screams for no apparent reason and always does what’s asked of him. He is also an incredibly reasonable child who acts in the most logical of manners at all points in time and I’m getting rid of him for cheap!