I’m looking for something to do. Something that plays to my skill set which for the past 5 or so years has exclusively involved working with children on a 24/7 basis. Several options come to mind, but one clearly stands out amongst the rest.
As such, I’d like to take this opportunity to announce my bid for the Presidency of the United States of America.
I feel like that should’ve been harder to publicly state, given the enormity of the sought after position. Yet I strangely couldn’t care less, and let’s face it, if you’ve tuned into current events of late, neither could you. I will go one step further and admit that not only do I not care, I am currently thinking more about how to get my kids to eat the meatballs “with the gross gravy” that are in my oven than I am about how to gain anyone’s vote.
They won’t eat them, but that is not the point. The point is to highlight my ability to coerce infantile beings to reluctantly come to the table on a consistent basis to bellyache at record breaking levels while simultaneously fighting every instinct that I have to simply not care.
Not giving a shit = problem solved.
I, my friends, am a problem solver. “Chicken nuggets anyone?”
I am also a great liar. Little white lies are where I generally excel, but I’m good at the big ones too. My ten year old daughter still believes in Santa. And the Tooth Fairy. Sigh. It’s gone too far now. I’ve done too much. Honesty will make me look weak and idiotic. No one votes for an idiot, especially when she’s a woman. Right?
I’d like to say that teaching fiscal responsibility is a mastered trait, but it appears that I pretty much suck at that too. My 8 year old daughter wouldn’t accept a dollar the other day for doing absolutely nothing because her little brother got two. Guess what? He got three and she still thought she won. An impromptu lesson in the value of money followed, which ended in her smugly stating before skipping off into the sunset, “You don’t need money to be happy mom.”
But hey, if you’re into the status quo, and let’s face it folks, who isn’t, I have zero ability to bring any sort of peace and unity to any number of ridiculous and often imagined predicaments between two or more parties. I’ve spearheaded and personally implemented several approaches, some more socially accepted than others, yet to no avail. I’ve made peace with it. They’re children. Tiny human beings with even smaller brains to support their ignorant agendas. You can’t reason with children, nor do I intend to. They need encouragement, and prizes. Who wants a lollipop? Washington D.C., here I come!
As nice as the ‘hope and change’ thing sounds, I’ve learned the hard way that zero expectation leads to zero disappointment. My 5 year old son still nonchalantly eats his boogers in plain sight despite repeated and desperate public objection. “They’re yummy mommy.”
Who am I to judge personal taste? To each his own. Ugh.
In short, my kids have always wanted to live in a house with a bowling alley. Based on the current playing field, I figured this was our best shot.
I promise to get regular haircuts and to not purposely be a ginormous prick.
Vote for me. I’ll give you a meatball.