When my children were small I became convinced they stole my intelligence.  I said dumb things all the time.  Part of that was because they limited my otherwise colorful vocabulary.  The other part of that was sleep deprivation.  I remember telling my oldest once that if I had waited until he was fifteen to have other children I wouldn’t have.  At the time, his siblings were thirteen and eight.  I have used so many sentences with oxymorons while trying to explain things to my kids that I am surprised they were able to comprehend most of what I was trying to convey at all.  For awhile I was worried that it was just me, but then I started paying attention to my non-vag daughter.  She an excellent mother, but she’s just as nutty as squirrel poop when it comes to dealing with the Precious.  Allow me to elaborate.

On Friday my non-vag daughter and I found ourselves without husbands so we decided to take the Precious to dinner.  We aren’t insane.  We took him to a local Mom & Pop Restaurant which is never busy and could withstand the sometimes contrary attitudes of an overachieving almost two year old.  (Translation: he’s taking the terrible twos to a whole new level) First he didn’t want a high chair.  Then he did.  Then he wanted a booster seat.  Then he didn’t.  He wanted a drink of my tea.  Then he was digging the ice out of my glass with his chubby little mitt.  I ordered him a paper cup of ice to dig in so I could drink my tea.  He poured the ice out and still chub-fisted my tea.  I ordered another tea.  When the food came (he had grilled cheese and french fries) the fries were too hot so he just ate ketchup by the spoonful until his Mommy caught him.  Then he began chunking food at the floor.  Needless to say, mom had had enough.  She took him to the car while I took care of the check and by the time I got to the car it was a train wreck.  The Precious was in the car seat bawling his eyes out, snot streaming out of his nose, legs pounding the seat in front of him, head shaking back and forth…full on tantrum.  His mommy is looking a little haggard and like she’s torn somewhere between getting really drunk or risking the death penalty.  I love it!  Actually, I wish my son was here.  He is the one I placed the curse on (you know…I hope you have a child just like you) but he is in Florida on business. 

The Precious takes a breath…finally, and recovers enough to point a finger at his mother and shout “No!”  I have to tell you, I don’t know what her problem was.  I thought this was freaking adorable, but she looked into the rear view mirror and said, “No sir, you don’t tell me no!”  A fresh batch of tears sprang to his eyes, but much more briefly this time and a little more quietly he pointed and said “No!”  It wasn’t quietly enough though because mommy looked in the mirror again and said “That’s enough. Don’t you tell me no!”  There were no tears this time but there was a look in this child’s eyes that would have challenged Hannibal Lecter for pure, cold, emotionless, well calculated hatred and I saw him quietly raise that little pointer finger up by his nose and just above a whisper say “No.”  Sadly the poor unfortunate creature has a mother who is blessed with good hearing, and once again she unleashed on him.  “That makes three times I’ve told you not to tell me No.  Do you want a spanking when we get home?”  Now normally I don’t butt in.  I turn my head when he’s in trouble and I’m laughing.  I try not to pick him up when he’s asking to be picked up after they have disciplined him.  But this time I just had to say something.  I made sure he wasn’t paying any attention to me (and he wasn’t.  He was squalling like someone had decapitated his Teddy bear) and I said to my daughter “you really didn’t leave him any way to answer that spanking question.  You just told him not to tell you No, and then you asked him if he wants a spanking.  What’s the poor kid supposed to do?”  I can only see her eyes in the rear view mirror but I can see where the kid gets that Hannibal Lecter thing.  She sort of whispers, “shut up.”

When they got ready to leave our house that night he was ready to send mommy packing and move in.  I asked him if he just wanted to live with me and he said “Yeth.”  I’m not stupid and this is not my first trip to the dance.  I told him “tough, you’re going home if we have to walk.”   And I carried him to the car.  I did bribe him with some chocolate just to keep the crying down to a minimum.  But see here’s the thing…I’m just sort of starting to not say really dumb crap since my kids aren’t home any longer, and I know that senility is just a heartbeat away so I figure I’ve got to maintain gray matter while I can.   The other thing is just the whole justice issue.  This is the offspring of my oldest child.  My starter child, if you will.  Now I made a lot of mistakes with that kid and he made me pay for each and every one of them.  I have seen bumper stickers that say grandchildren are your revenge….I totally get it.  Now I am making him pay, and I feel that one of my Emmy duties is to point out their parenting discrepancies.  You know, like the spanking comment.  I also will be there to tell my grandchildren all the dumb crap their parents did or still do.  Just in case that senility kicks in early, I’ve got this blog as written testimony.  You are all my witnesses.  Be prepared to testify.