I Don’t Get Paid Enough For This Shit!

I love my son – really I do. I feel like I needed to say that, as much of the content on my Facebook page, and some of the stories I’ve told here might suggest otherwise. Being a parent has it’s cool moments (or so I’m told), but it also can easily rival the worst jobs I’ve ever had. Ok, not all of it, but right now driving my kid around has become the bane of my existence. Not only does he complain the whole time until he gets to listen to the music only he wants to listen to, but he’s become the mother of all backseat drivers – constantly questioning where we’re going, what direction I’m going, and why I ran the yellow light. Come to think of it, he’s become his mother.



2 thoughts on “I Don’t Get Paid Enough For This Shit!

  1. “The Terrible Twos” is a disastrously misleading misnomer, in that it somehow suggests that “the threes” signal a progress towards the light. In fact, age 3 is the Mother (Father) of all Battles, through which only the Strong or calculatedly insensitive can survive. Fear not, age 4 beckons calm from this sea of irrationality, at which point you can actually have a rational discussion with your offspring as to why it really doesn’t matter what color their cup is, or that the gender of the singer on the radio cannot instantly be changed

    Cherish the unbridled ridiculousness of the 2-3 year old with every ounce of relish you can though, for that spark of out-of-the-box thinking never quite reignites with the same fervor. There is a pearl in this otherwise slimy oyster

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