Imaginary Friends

I have often thought that the parents have no imagination, but I now find that to be simply untrue. Instead, they have a rather curious form of imagination which I feel I must disclose for the benefit of the many others of you out there struggling to raise parents.

This particular bout of imagination has recently struck the parents, presumably because of their having spent far too much time indoors over the recent months. In fact, it is the doors themselves which seem to trigger this particular delusion. I will describe it for you, although I confess that even I would have a hard time believing such a thing had I not observed it with my own eyes on multiple occasions.

As you know, the snow is rather delightful this time of year, and I, being the lover of nature that I am, try to take advantage of this wonder as often as I can, though it is troublesome because the parents insist of placing my coat up high where I cannot reach it, forcing me to ask for their assistance, but I’m getting off the subject.

Anytime I open the door to go outside, one of the parents will invariably yell, “Close the door Miranda, you’re letting all the heet out!” At first I thought maybe there were some small creatures named heets that I have somehow missed, but after close analysis of the doorway, I have determined that no small creature is trying to escape. It was only then that I realized what wonderful imaginations the parents have. I can understand their need for such a mental crutch, as being a parent seems very unfulfilling.

In respect to their delusion, I close the door. After all, I wouldn’t want to let the “heet” get out. The parents would get so lonely.

Spicy Snow

It’s that most wonderful time of the year again, and snow is once again falling from the sky, which, as you all know, means it’s time for me to help Daddy shovel the driveway. I have really refined my methods this year, to the point where, honestly, Daddy would be lost without me. In fact, I have to stay very close to him and make sure I shovel right where he is trying to shovel, for his protection and education.

My most recent shoveling expedition was highly disappointing. Instead of snow, we had rain, and the driveway was covered with little ice chunks, which aren’t nearly as good for making snowballs. Nevertheless, I helped Daddy scrape them off the driveway. Daddy said we had to clear it because some friends were coming over later and he didn’t want them to slip.

Apparently he shared my disappointment about the lack of snow, as, a few minutes later, he emerged from the garage with a shaker and began depositing big pieces of snow all over the steepest parts of the driveway and on the sidewalk. It was very loud and hard snow, but I guess that’s probably just because he had kept it in the garage for so long.

I should mention, at this point, that not only in snow great for making snowballs to throw at Daddy, but it is also a delicious and healthy snack, and I try to eat as much of it as I can when it’s in season. It has a great crisp flavor that no other form of precipitation can match.

So, naturally, I had to try out some of Daddy’s garage snow. For those of you who may be tempted to try it yourself, do not eat garage snow. I think keeping it in containers makes it go bad. Stick to the fresh snow. It’s not as spicy.

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?

Narrow Minded

Hello, loyal and faithful readers. I apologize for my long absence, but the parents have been particularly troublesome lately. I know, I always think they can’t get worse, or at least that I won’t be surprised when they do, and yet…

As you all know, the parents are terribly small minded, and this causes no end of difficulty for me. Obviously I am as understanding and caring as a person can be, but even so it puts a tremendous strain on me. For example, the parents don’t seem to grasp even the most basic of situations.

Is it really that hard to understand that I want the toy and don’t want the toy, equally strongly and at the same time? How can they not comprehend that when I demand to be both indoors and outdoors, it is their job to make that happen, not to ask silly questions like “Which one do you want?”

If any of you out there have experience enlightening parents, please share your secrets. I’m beginning to suspect that mine may be defective.

The Potty

Mommy and Daddy are up to their crazy schemes again. You’ll never guess what they want me to do now, not in a million years. They have this silly bucket full of water called “The Potty” with its own little room. That’s crazy, I know, but it gets worse. They want me (can I say this on the internet?) to pee and poop in it. I don’t know which is more shocking: the concept itself or their audacity for suggesting it.

It’s obvious what their game is. Those lazy parents are trying to get out of their chores. They think if they trick me into joining their little Potty cult then they won’t have to change my diapers anymore.

They have even gone so far as to suggest that my friends already do this, and that they themselves use the Potty quite regularly. As though I would want to be more like them. I allow them to do whatever they want in their time off, but that hardly means I want to join them.

They even say that if I use the Potty then I’ll be a “big girl”. I’m not sure what they are implying, but I fail to see how peeing and pooping in a silly bucket will alter my size in any appreciable manner.

The parents simply can’t understand that the idea does not appeal to a busy person like myself. I don’t have time to stop and use the Potty every time I need to pee or poop. Not that they would understand such things, the lazy adults. Clearly I need to keep them busier.

Snow Removal

I was telling you about snow and the parents’ fundamental misunderstanding of it the other day. You’ll probably find this hard to believe, but it’s even worse than I first let on.

Every time it snows Daddy rushes outside with a shovel. I know what you’re thinking: He’s has to gather up as much of that snow as he can before anyone else takes it. After all, I’ve seen those big tractors running up and down the road carrying it off like they own the place. It would make sense to collect it before those greedy fellows stole it all. Unfortunately, he’s actually doing quite the opposite. I have found him, on multiple occasions, getting rid of the snow! Just when you thought parental behavior could not become any more baffling.

Fortunately, the Grand Parents that I told you about before anticipated this eventuality and provided me with my own shovel to thwart Daddy’s ludicrous endeavor. Now when I see that an area is getting low on snow, I can carry snow from a place with more and redistribute it, maintaining the snowy atmosphere. As always, faithful reader, you can count on me to keep the world in balance.

The Meaning of Snow

It turns out, once again, that the parents have been holding out on me. I’ve noticed a strange phenomenon that happens occasionally when it is cold. Everything outside my house turns white. The parents call this “snow”.

I actually experienced this “snow” a long time ago. The parents even made me put on a heavy coat, big boots, and go outside and touch it. It was a distinctly unpleasant experience. Cold and boring. Naturally, I made them take me back inside the nice warm house right away.

But, as I said, it turns out the parents were holding out on me. Or maybe they just didn’t know. They can be rather simple sometimes. Fortunately, I have made alliances with wise children. My friend Natalie knows everything. She showed me the truth: Snow is for picking up in big lumps and throwing at people.

It all makes so much more sense now.

Time Management

As you can no doubt imagine, taking care of the parents is a full-time obligation. “But Miranda,” I hear you saying, “You need to take some time for yourself as well.” I couldn’t agree more. Let me share with you some of my helpful tips for not losing your free time, and sanity, with parents.

The first thing you must understand is that parents should be placed in a safe environment if you’re leaving them without supervision, preferably with some sort of distraction to keep them occupied. You don’t want to get involved in a task, only to have to come running because they’ve had an emergency.

If you’re not sure what environment is safe for your parent, here is an example: Mommy likes to go to the sink and play with the soapy water. She gives baths to the cups and plates. I don’t understand why she enjoys it so much, but it keeps her occupied almost every day.

Once your parent is safely distracted you have the perfect opportunity to do the things around the house that you really want to do, without parents poking in and bothering you. One thing to keep in mind is that the parents are auditory creatures. If you make too much noise, they cannot help but come and investigate. If you keep quiet, you can enjoy many precious hours of uninterrupted time.

Let There Be Lights

Life is all about discovery. I try to explain this to the parents, but they just say “Take that out of your mouth, Miranda.” One recent discovery has really changed my appreciation for the marvels of our universe. Did you know that there are small switches on the walls that make lights? It’s true. I wouldn’t have believed it either, except that I’ve tried them for myself. It’s magical.

I think all of you out there in my audience already know how much I enjoy spreading light, and now I can do it literally. As you can no doubt guess, this has not been without some nay-saying from the parents. “Miranda, don’t turn on lights you aren’t using. Miranda, turn out the lights when you leave a room.” I guess I can’t blame them. If I looked like a parent I’d probably stay in the dark too. What, too mean? It’s all in good fun… Mostly.

The parents are not above using these switches of light themselves, but they don’t seem to understand their full potential. They’re always switching lights off instead of on. I’d like to think it’s just an accident, but they seem to deliberately want only a few lights on at a time.

The worst is when they walk into a room and don’t even turn on the lights. Naturally I, being the helpful spreader of lightness that I am, try to correct their oversight, and they object. “Miranda, it’s light outside.” We’re not outside, now are we Daddy? We’re inside. Turn on the lights.