Jun 30, 2008
Adventures in Bad Parenting
I've had the occasional good Mom moments, but they aren't nearly as entertaining as the "not so on top of my game" moments. Take the other day: the sliver is still in Mia's thumb. Mark is trying to remove it. All of his efforts to get even remotely near her with anything resembling a pair of tweezers is met with wailing, trembling, sobbing, gnashing of teeth, and sheer terror. Seriously, it's a sliver. After about 30 minutes (and did I mention this is all taking place at bedtime), I'm getting more than a little fed up, and here's what I come up with: "Fine. When your thumb gets infected and we have to take you to the doctor, I'm just going to tell the doctor to go ahead and cut your thumb off."
Amazingly, this does not go over well. More wailing, etc. At this point, I leave the room. Later I hear Mia asking Mark in a shaky voice, "Daddy, the doctor won't really cut my thumb off right?" I should start her a therapy fund.
In another incident, in an attempt to get at least 10 minutes to myself, I gave Sam the one toy that every child loves: a big cardboard box. Soon he is at my side incoherently begging for something. I ignore him. It turns out he wanted me to cut a door in the box, because he comes in a few minutes later with a pair of children's scissors and unsuccessfully attempts to cut the box himself. More whining. I still ignore him. Soon I realize it is a little too quiet and look up to find Sam trying to cut the box with the biggest butcher knife we own. Lesson learned. Time to child-proof the knife drawer.