The Parent Trap

Many of you out there ask how it is that I manage to deal with raising such terrible parents. I have found that the key to making it bearable is to treat the parents as a source of entertainment. The parents are rather simple-minded folks, and it is a source of great amusement to me to watch their puny minds contend with my great intellect.

My latest game is one that really gets them wound up. “Mommy, I want to take a nap,” I say.

“Do you really want a nap?” she asks me.

“Yes. I’m really sleepy.” We head upstairs towards my room. “I don’t want to take a nap, Mommy.”

“But you just said you did.”

“No, I don’t want a nap. I want to go downstairs.”

“Why don’t you try taking a nap?”

“No, I want to go downstairs.” Mommy starts to go back downstairs. “I want to take a nap!”

Eventually I decide to move to the next phase. I go to my room and get into bed. I say goodbye to Mommy and snuggle under my covers.

I know she waits outside my room, so I stay very quiet. Eventually she will decide I’m asleep and go downstairs. I give her a moment, to really increase the comedic value, and then start pounding on my bedroom door. “I need to use the potty.”

She comes back to my room and we use the potty. This time she asks a few extra times if I want a nap. I assure her I do, and she puts me into my bed and eventually goes downstairs.

“Mommy, help my find my monkey!”

We go through the cycle again. “Mommy, I need to poop!”

“Mommy, I’m done with my nap now!”

I know what you’re thinking: “There’s no way anyone would be stupid enough to fall for that more than once.” The parents, however, never seem to catch on.

It doesn’t quite make up for all that the parents put me through, but as I’ve found, it really is the little things that make life enjoyable.

Say What You Mean

I have a question for those of you out there. Do you know if parents can say one thing but mean something else? It wouldn’t seem like something they should be smart enough to do, but I think I’ve seen signs of it.

The other day I was outside with Daddy, and I wanted to draw with chalk. There were lots of leaves on the driveway, so Daddy needed to clean them off so I would have enough room to really express myself. He got out the big broom and started sweeping away the leaves. It looked like fun, so I asked him if I could sweep the leaves. He got a smaller broom out of the garage and I set to work.

“I’m helping,” I told him.

“Yeah, you’re a big help,” he said. And though I know he couldn’t do anything on his own, something about how he said it almost made me think he meant that I wasn’t being helpful.

Should I take his comment as the simple statement of gratitude that it is, or is there something more going on behind the scenes?