Thursday, February 7, 2013
My children have no morals.
Though I do what I can to raise my kids right, in the end, they have no morals.
Me, "Did you draw on the cabinets?"
The Quiet Contemplator, "No."
Me, "Then why is there a marker in your hand that is the same color that is on the cabinets?"
TQC, "I don't know."
Me, "Did you use that marker to draw on the cabinets?"
Me, "Did you know how the marker got on the cabinets?"
Me, "If I stop asking you questions will you promise not to draw on the cabinets again?"
Me (Twitch, Twitch), "OK, we will agree to disagree, then."
Playing a game of Candyland or Chutes and Ladders with my 3-year-old is not fun. Or fair. That bitch cheats like it is her job. And I like to win. Everything. Ever. While playing, my daughter, who knows the rules and how to play, will wait until your back is turned and move her piece up 20 spaces. She then takes her next turn and says, "I win!" WTF? I quit! This game is RIGGED!
My son is a fatty. He will do whatever he has to to get more food. That includes stealing from other children. Yes, my son commits larceny against BABIES. I am a fine mother. He once got up from his chair at school, went to the other side of the table, stole a little girl's bananas and got back to his seat, all while the teacher's back was turned. He is a sneaky little monkey.
They Commit Battery
About six times a day, I have to break up some sort of melee between my son and my daughter. They take any time alone together as a challenge to start a cage match. This would be great, if I could make a profit off of it. Unfortunately, all I get out of it is 20 minutes of one of them whimpering in my lap while the other taunts them from across the room. One time at school, my daughter even took a toy car and used it to haul off and hit the sweetest little girl in class in the face. Nice, kid. Nice.
No matter what degree of awesome the toy is that they are currently playing with, my kids will immediately toss it aside to covet the toy a child near them has just picked up. My daughter could be playing with a live quadricorn made of glitter and cupcakes and she would throw it down the minute her brother picked up a turd so she could steal it from him. This is also true for colors of crayons in our house.
What about your kids? Are they perfect angels or one step away from San Quentin?