|
DO |
Ask if you can help out with cleaning up. |
|
DON'T |
Insist on "helping" when I decline. |
|
DON'T |
Then use 409 on my nice wood table. |
|
DON'T |
Then let your kids color on my newly unfinished
table instead of in their coloring books.
|
|
DO |
Listen to me when I say that the garbage disposal
isn't functional. |
|
DON'T |
Neglect to mention, on hearing this, that
you already crammed enough foodstuffs down there
to feed Uganda. Not only did this little surprise
enrage me later on, it took me hours to unclog. |
|
DO |
Bring your kids. Ed and I like kids. |
|
DON'T |
Let your kids be cruel to my dog. |
|
DON'T |
Change your three [sic] year old's diapers on my
linens, get shit on the linens, and then do
nothing about it. My
linens sometimes touch other guests' faces. Like
last night. |
|
DON'T |
Let your kids use my towel bar as a jungle jim. |
|
DON'T |
Gently set the broken towel bar against the hole in the
wall in an effort to conceal the damage until
you're gone. The illusion lasted only until my
next shower. I look forward to repairing this,
too. |
|
DON'T |
Let your kids swing my binoculars on their strap
like a propeller. They were a gift, I like them
the way they are, and I'd like to have them for a
while. |
|
DON'T |
Act like I'm the unkindest fucker on the face of
the earth for quietly taking them away from your
child. |
|
DON'T |
Negotiate with a screaming, pouting brat. Most
especially, don't negotiate using the binoculars
I've already taken away from the screaming,
pouting brat. And most certainly, don't tell me I
have no voice in this issue, then give the little
demon my binoculars over my objections. |
|
DON'T |
Let your toddler use my speckle-glass soap
dispenser unsupervised. |
|
DON'T |
Blame me for having a glass soap dispenser and
tell me that everything should be plastic. I'm the
one who chose not have
children, remember? Among other benefits, I can
and do have nice things. The vow of poverty and
insular life of plastic you chose is your burden
and no one else's. The world isn't made of
plastic; your kids need to learn this sometime,
but how can they when breakage is the world's
fault? |
|
DO |
Offer to replace what your toddler broke. |
|
DON'T |
Act surprised and indignant when
uncharacteristically, I accept your offer. Maybe
you'll learn something about a little thing called
"responsibility" this way. |
|
DON'T |
Whine further that my soap dispenser was too
expensive. Shut the fuck up. |
|
DON'T |
Attempt to weasel out of accountability with sad
tales of your impoverishment. Seriously, shut the
fuck up. |
|
DO |
Teach your kids things like "use your indoor
voice," "the butcher block isn't for playing
with," "the oil bottles aren't for playing with,"
"don't take food from the doggie's mouth," "don't
club the window with the bell," "don't climb the
new blinds," "don't poke doggies in the eye, it
hurts them," "don't run full speed and ram your
palms into the picture windows," "don't stab the
flat-screen monitor with a pen," "don't play near
the edge of the cliff," "don't run with sparklers
toward the big pile of explosives," "don't kick
the TV," etc.
|
|
DON'T |
Make me be the one to say these things—especially when
you're present. This, this is when you finally shut the
fuck up? What no doubt seems to you an opportunity
to offload parental burden for a time is, to me,
thoughtless and rude. Why don't you divert some of
the energy you're devoting to whining about the
soap thing and use it to, you know, parent? In
addition to being the status that constitutes the
dubious sum of your life goals, "parent" is also a
verb. |
|
DON'T |
Bring three children into this overcrowded,
hungry, resource-depleted and pollution-stricken
world, talk about your ditzy spiritual need for a
fourth, and then babble pretentiously about
recycling. You're fucking eco-terrorists.
Literally. |
|
DO |
Reason with your kids. The whys are just as
important as the whats. |
|
DON'T |
Give your kid the exact same lecture—in the exact
same tone, with the exact same lack of
consequences—for not washing his hands as for
continuing to play at the edge of the cliff after
three warnings. I don't know if you've noticed,
but your kid is tuning out your incessant lecturing
to the point where it's physically endangering
him. |
|
DO |
Negatively reinforce. I'm not saying you have to
beat the kid, but when he's being gleefully
disobedient, I think removing TV, dessert, beach
privileges etc. will not result in lasting
emotional damage. It might even save his life. And
as a bonus, our friendship. |
|
DON'T |
Make repeated threats of punishment that you know
you won't follow through on. I don't know if
you've noticed, but your kid knows you won't, too. |
|
DON'T |
Tell your kid that the cost of watching fireworks
is that we all have to clean up the next day, then
let him goof off while the rest of us clean up. Oh
yes, that's right, you didn't let him.
You lectured him and told him he wouldn't be able
to go to the beach if he didn't help, right before
he went to the beach after having not helped. |
|
DON'T |
Get on my case when I tell him he's "useless."
While I appreciate your corrections of my unaffirming word choice ("John! We don't say that! We say
'you're not being very useful.'"), you have to
understand that my comment was already quite
sanitized. The original was, "You lazy, useless
piece of mindless Mormon shit, you're being raised
to be a worthless, irresponsible, ungrateful,
unemployable, misogynistic carbon blob of a burden
on society who does just the bare minimum to get
what he wants, just like your father. Hey,
speaking of trash, why don't you pick this stuff
up like you promised, before I indulge my inner
father and boot your sorry, slothful ass into the
ocean?" |
|
DON'T |
On your way out, tell me fanciful tales of even
more neglectful parents than you. You'd
have to actually give your kids live munitions
in order to be worse parents. |
