Sunday, June 21, 2009
You Talkin to Me Mister?! Happy Flugging snarkoffen Day!
Isn't she adorable! So cute! So cruel, er huh?
Ok parents... please tell me this is common. Please tell me that my beautiful little sweetheart of a five-year-old is just going through a "stage" as in "she won't scream at the top of her lungs NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO for an hour her whole life" stage.
Children are so darn cute and adorable... and then they learn to talk. Whose idea was this anyway? Emma, my little five-year-old, is having a major case of Drama Queen meets Godzilla which causes her to:
1. Not listen
2. Go absolutely insane when she gets in trouble for not listening
3. Go completely boneless when being picked up to be taken to her bed where she has Exorcist level contortion fits that both scare and entertain (bring popcorn!)
Look - I'm telling you I didn't even know vocal ranges like that existed until I put this child in bed for not behaving. So - the question is - will this stop at some point or do I have to call Madonna to come and adopt this child.
It starts out very innocently. So that you fellow parents can help me figure this out, I give you the following nearly verbatim recent example:
Von: Emma, go get your shoes on please. We are leaving.
Emma: Don't leave without me!!
Von: We are not leaving with out you but you need to get your shoes on. Please hurry up.
Emma: (who is now laying flat on her back on the floor flailing as though she is fighting off some unforeseen demon) I CAN'T FIND MY OTHER SHOE!!!!
Von: Calm down - it's right beside you!
Now: Here is where it gets really bizarre so follow closely (I don't know, ready slower here eh?). The offending shoe is, indeed, right beside my daughters actual foot which is, as of that moment, still attached to her actual body. She looks at the shoe - looks AT the shoe - and amazingly says: Where?
Did you know, ladies and gentlemen, that under the proper circumstances (see the last paragraph please) that the face of a Mom can actually explode without causing her own demise? At this point Von's face turns the color of red usually associated with fire hydrants and horror films. I am, at this moment, the calmer of the two, so I do what I know is best in such a heated situation: I take three paces backward to avoid being injured.
Von: Emma - are you trying to tell me (insert sound of gritted teeth here please) that you don't see that shoe sitting right next to your foot?
Emma: (Who is now playing with the shoe that only her parents can see): No
Remember that verse in the Bible, something like "spare not the dismembering of your children, lest the live longer than you"? (Hey - I didn't say I had it memorized). We now reach the point where the following, inevitable, things occur.
1. My ten-year-old son, who stays out of trouble 99.9% of the time, says to his sister: "You are being ridiculous!" The most untimely 100% accurate comment of all time.
2. The five-year-old, using the non-existent shoe as a weapon, attacks him.
3. Von gives me "the look" - you know guys, the one that says "you did this to me!" and "do something before I kill all of you" at the same time - and I realize I must spring into action.
Let it be known that I have a college education. I am a military veteran. I have survived multiple, severe lacerations including the loss of small body parts, many stitches, compound fractures, and some completely bizarre injuries that would make the reader blush. None of these facts help in dealing with a demon possessed child in the least. In fact, I don't sound like a college educated military veteran who can handle whatever comes my way. Instead of actually speaking, the following statement comes out of my face as I grab the child and, very literally, peal her off of her brother.
"Flugging snarkoffen dingle brats!" I yell. There are actual words in there, but they just won't come out as I carry the now boneless and screaming child up to "the bed."
Here is an interesting fact. Did you know that "the bed" has two distinct features and not just one? Have children, and you will find that "the bed" is:
a. Used for sleeping, pleasant dreams, and sound rest.
b. Used to torture small children
This is a fate so horrible, so unbelievably painful that the child must resort to yelling for help. Evidentally, anyone that might come to her rescue is a minimum of 10.5 miles from our home, thus requiring EXTREMELY LOUD PLEAS for asstance. We have two basset hounds. They actually sit at the front door with suitcases when she starts screaming. Yes - it is that type of pitch.
This goes on for quite a while until, finally, she falls fast asleep. This is the time I usually go upstairs and find that, once again, my real child has returned. Minus the tussled hair and the redness under her eyes, she almost looks like a little angel. And by the way - she has both shoes on.
Someday I'll look back on this and laugh.... so why not today?