My mother just called to tell me that my previous post was good, except for the part where I called The Beast an idiot. She found this offensive.
People, for the love of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, I’m kidding.
I do not now, nor will I ever think my child is truly an idiot. Actually, that’s not true. There are some things I can imagine happening in his, and The Good One’s, teenage years that could potentially warrant the use of the title “Idiot.”
But have we not already established that he’s an evil genius?
He’s 3 and he says words incorrectly, and I use that for humor. If I offend you, I suggest you find a way to deal with it, because I’ll probably call him, The Good One and Virginia Slims Man a lot more names before I quit this highly unlucrative blogging business.
And if you’re concerned about him reading this and being offended, don’t. While he is a genius, he doesn’t read yet and I’ll be sure to shut this baby down before he ever gets wind of my concern that he might someday concoct a nefarious plot to take over the world.
But honestly, what parent hasn’t at one time or another thought that their kids are idiots?
I feel confident that my parents thought we were idiots most of the time, because we were. We nearly killed our family by using paint thinner in a poorly ventilated garage. We made gifts of “perfume” for our friends by mixing 72 varieties of toilette water, and instead of providing anything resembling perfume, we provided the gift of raging headaches to our entire household.
We were idiots. All kids are.
What is the world coming to when we can’t even joke about our kids being morons without people getting their knickers all sucked up their butt cheeks?