Dear Diary …
Now that I have ‘em … I’ve learned something about kids. There is one thing in their lives that is far and away the most important thing in their existence. OK … actually the blanket answer here would be “themselves,” because they’re selfish little cretins that only care about the little world right in front of their faces. But if I’m being specific … the single most important thing in their lives is food. Mainly … snacks.
All day … every day … their life revolves around snacks.
Twenty minutes after my daughter has finished her breakfast … 7 o’clock in the morning …
“Daddy can I have a snack of maybe some Doritos?”
Doritos? For breakfast? What are you … a stoner college kid? You just ate!
And all day with this … they’re asking for snacks again at 10. And lunch at 11. And a snack at two. And another at 4. And dinner at 5.
It’s like my house is the training grounds for the 4th of July hot dog eating contest or something with the volume of snacks these little heathens are demanding.
And my son makes me extra crazy because he’s two … so he’s a lousy communicator. He just stands in the pantry and says “Want dat one.”
Well which one? Triscuits?
“No … dat one”
"Dat one" is not a food … pick a food! Instead … like an idiot … I’m just holding up every single box and bag of everything until I can successfully find “dat one.”
And that’s the other thing … Even though I own the house we live in and pay the bills … To them, I am nothing more in this household than the butler.
And not even like the butler you love and treat with respect like the one on Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. I am the butler snobby rich people throw food at and tell me I’m not allowed to make eye contact with them. I'm like a Kardashian butler.
Take this weekend … Butler has to serve the children breakfast. Actually … I should point out that my daughter had already had breakfast, but the food beast was already requesting her, quote, “second part breakfast.”
Anyway … I make them each some french toast sticks as requested … or should I say “as ordered,” cuz I’m having a hard time remembering where the “please” was located before I forced it out of them.
So Butler Zack brings his and her royal highnesses their plates as they sit in front of the television … festooned in a lovely array of comfortable pillows and blankets that they’ve made for themselves. My son gets his plate, looks at it, and says …
“Hey! Where’s my milk?”
To which my daughter adds …
“Only two french toast sticks? That’s IT?”
Oh well you're welcome to both of you! Butler’s gonna lose it in here!!
I can’t believe I’m saying this, but the classic “there’s starving kids in Ethiopia” has almost exited my mouth on several occasions!
The other thing I can’t stand is that these stinkin’ kids wanna eat too early. You know what time dinner is in my house … at least according to his and her highness? 5 o’clock. And not 5:01 or 5:02 … because that becomes “Is dinner readdyyyyyyy? I’m staaaaaarrrrrving!”
I always said I’d never be one of those parents that makes one meal for the grownups and one for the kids, but … I don’t wanna eat at 5 o’clock. Old people eat at 5 o’clock. I don’t want the early bird special!!!
So I end up just giving them what piece of crud I can heat up in a toaster oven. Fish sticks. Who eats fish sticks? They do.
Cuz Diary ... my grandmother is 100 years old, and you know what time she eats dinner in her nursing home? 5:15. I refuse to eat dinner before a 100 year old!!!
Oh but don’t worry … Before Mommy and Daddy … oh I mean “The Help” … actually get to sit down to eat, my daughter is saying, “Can I have my bedtime snack?”
Bedtime snack? It’s 6:15. You wanna go to bed? Be my guest!
In conclusion … they have tapeworm or something. That’s the only explanation. Parasites.
Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.