Parenting Rants, Witty Rants

No Ice-Ice BABY.. I mean, DICKHEAD.

This mini-shitstorm starts at the end of a pretty normal day. It’s after 6 and a close friend of ours has done us the favor of picking up JJ from daycare because for some reason or another, neither Joey or I are able to make it on time. Traffic probably sucked as usual.

For reference, JJ is my 4 year old kid. He’s a Scorpio. He’s tan with blonde hair and an exceptionally twisted personality. He prefers not to wake up in the morning, like at all. He rarely eats meat. On his “spare” time he enjoys playing Angry Birds (how suitable) or initiating war with his big sister for reasons that I still can’t figure the fuck out. He likes wearing shades and I’ve realized it’s because essentially he’s my fucking creation and my soul twin. Shades are nature’s hater-blockers. Duh. And he and I aren’t the most social of creatures. And as a side note, it’s been recently discovered that he blatantly despises ice in his drink.

Now that you know a little more about this rare species of exotic gremlin..back to that normal day. Our friend picks him up and is cool enough to take him to BK for some grub. Upon sitting down to eat his chicken nuggets, he takes a quick sip of his diet soda (don’t fucking ask ok..the kid genuinely loves diet soda). And what happens next is the part where I officially know I am utterly failing at this whole parenting gig.

He quickly stops sipping his drink and rage washes through his 3 whole feet of body as he pops the lid off and yells …

“This DICKHEAD put ICE in my drink!!!!!!!”

Pause.

Now. You have to understand one very crucial detail here. Our poor friend JUST had his first child (thankfully a girl) a few months ago. So naturally, he tells me….he didn’t know what the fuck to do or say except make the mistake of asking JJ “what did you say??? And to no surprise…JJ makes himself clear…

“YEA! THIS DICKHEAD! HE PUT ICE IN MY DRINK! I DON’T LIKE ICE!”

And our buddy…still in shock as he relives that horrid 3 seconds in BK, stops talking and awaits a response. What now? Will I beat him? Put him in the hole? Time out forever? Give him up for adoption? What WILL you do oh mother of this little beast?

But I ain’t even mad. Like at all. All I can say is “Well. I mean the kid clearly doesn’t like ice in his drink so I’ll be sure to point that out from now own?” I’m subtle to use my peripherals to catch a glimpse of JJ who knows damn well that he’s the center of the universe at that very instant, and proceeds to smirk at me with one of those handsome little fucker smirks of his.

I turn my face and silently die of laughter and love inside. He’s fucking awesome. It’s not like he said it to the guy’s face. If that were the case then I would have disciplined him (whatever THAT means). He’s a boy and I just suck at being an asshole to my kids. I don’t have the time to stress the small shit these other moms stress like SAT scores at the age of five. I just refuse! They’re so fun now. So fuck whoever doesn’t like it.

The moral of the story is… WHATEVER YOU DO…DON’T PUT ICE IN JJ’S DRINK! DICKHEADS!!!

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