From Our House’s Dick-Tatorship to True Dictatorship: So Long, Choices!

As a pregnant mom, you get all these parenting tips. Get the baby on a schedule. Never skip a nap (you AND the baby). But one that always stuck with me was give your kids choices. Example: Son, here are two outfits you can wear to school today. Pick which one you want. Therein, he will feel that he is the one in control, while it’s really you pulling the strings, right? FUCK NO, people! What no one told me is there’s this third option where the kid whines and whines and then completely breaks down and cries more and insists that he’s not going to wear either of those outfits. After a timeout (another shitty ass mom tip), he emerges from his bedroom. Alas, will he be ready to make the right decision. Cue the whining and crying again. Uh, yeah, choices…great idea, people!

What I’ve been noticing the last couple of weeks is that the boys have formed a dick-tatorship. See what I did there? These little dudes think they are in charge of every single decision. From the minute they’ve gotten up to the moment they lay those little heads on their pillows for the past week or two, they’ve complained about everything from their breakfast choices to their shoes to the effing books I read them at night.

Yes, I’m also about to divulge a dirty little secret that goes on in our house each night. My husband and I put them in the back bedroom and let them watch an hour of TV before they go to bed while we watch our guilty pleasure shows and crack a bottle of red. I know, I know. The horror, right? An even more horrific thing has emerged – the snack negotiation:

Little dude emerges from the back bedroom, always wearing his negotiation hat (it’s really a smug smirk).

Little dude: We want chewies and chocolate and milk and popcorn.

Me: You can have a banana.

Little dude: We want chips and chewies.

Me: You can have a banana.

Little dude: We want Pirate’s bootie and rice krispie treats.

Me: You’re not getting what I’m saying.

At this point, I’m feeling very stabby.

Little dude: <smiles> We want…

And it starts up again…

Hey guys, did I mistakenly give you the idea that this household runs as a democracy?

Chris Tucker Hell No gif

You tell ’em, Chris.

There’s a new sheriff in town, and she is overruling your dick-tatorship with an autocratic vaginarchy. I’m tired. I’m crabby. And I’m over this B.S. There will be no voting. There will be no choices (or very few). There will be no crying, in baseball or otherwise. I can summarize the new governing philosophy with this one simple term: It’s my way or the highway, boys. Learn it. Live it. Love it.

My way or the highway picture

Should I pack your bags?

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Comments

  1. Shannon5757 says:

    Time outs ARE bullshit. No one tells you that they only work for a limited time, and one day after your 4 year old misbehaves, you’ll threateningly ask him “Do you WANT a time out?!?”, and he’ll look you dead in the eye and say (confidently), “Yes.”

    Shit.

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