Recently, my daughter decided she wanted to be a vegetarian, this action infuriated Daddy as we pulled into the barbecue restaurant for my youngest sons birthday. I felt this act was selfish, that she had made up this decision as a way of punishing me for my excellent parenting skills. As I explained that this form of requesting a special dietary option as we pull into barbecue joint was unacceptable. I told her that being a vegetarian is similar to quitting smoking and one must set a quit date for meat.
Further I asked, “Daddy would love to understand why you no longer want to partake in dead animal flesh, from poorly mistreated animals, that were probably beaten and abused before they got on our plate.” She replied that, “She doesn’t like the taste of meat.” This response sent Daddy into a tizzy. I immediately started yelling which is Daddy’s first and only line of defense. As I screamed at my daughter that she could have approached her new found vegetarianism in so many different ways and that I feel like she has decided to become a vegetarian as a way of rebelling against Daddy and I feel like she is holding a shotgun to my head. I told her I would never conform to this and she can now consider herself a starvetarian because Daddy will no longer feed her.
After this altercation we went inside the restaurant. My daughter calmly pointed out that they have these things called salads and that they are very comparable in price to the item she would normally order. I looked at her with eyes of defeat and allowed her to get a salad. The salad came and she looked at some of the vegetables in disgust. I explained she has to eat all of the vegetables or she is no longer a vegetarian. She said she doesn’t like peppers, onions, or mushrooms. I said, “Why don’t we get a chicken sandwich and forget this ever happened?” She nodded her head in agreement. Then we went home and watch a PETA documentary on chickens and laughed.
It occurred to Daddy this weekend that buying my children everything they wanted in order to shut them up, was a stupid and expensive idea. Now they are ungrateful little brats that use whining and yelling as a tool to hold daddy hostage. So daddy decided to take them dumpster diving for dinner and clothes. I explained that if daddy ever lost his job and we became poor this is how poor people survive. My daughter questioned this by asking me if I ever met a poor person before. I told her they have this cool newspaper that homeless people write and sell on the corner for money and that last week daddy almost bought one from the poor person. She then asked why I didn’t buy it. I told her daddy has this fear that if you touch a poor person you might become poor. So time for dumpster diving. As we edged near the dumpster I looked at my children and said women and children first. They looked at me in disgust and immediately started crying. They screamed, “NO! We are SO SORRY! We will be good!” But their little tears did not persuade daddy to stop. It was the moment I picked up my daughter and threw her in the dumpster that it occurred to me this might possibly be child abuse. But it was a little late to doing anything about it. So in order to make up for it I bought her a pony.
My children loved pizza and Mc Donald’s. Every time daddy asked them what they wanted to eat they would say PIZZA! PIZZA! PIZZA! If I tried to serve anything healthy they would roll their eyes and not eat it. So I decided to ruin their favorite food. Daddy use to love Doritos and would eat it all the time, until one day daddy was drunk and vomited Doritos in the back seat of his friends new Lexus. I never talked to that friend again, not because I was embarrassed about puking in his car, but he tried to make daddy pay for the clean up. It’s not my fault you make me sea sick when you drive drunk. But what I learned from that experience besides screwing up a 10 year friendship over who vomited in whose luxury car was if you vomit something you like you usually won’t eat it again. So daddy bought 15 pizzas and I kept feeding them pizza until they vomited all over the place. Now when I ask them what they want for dinner they say, “Anything but Pizza!” Mission Accomplished.
Approaching your children on the topic of drugs is intricate. It’s extremely important not to mess this up, or not only will your child try drugs they will grow up to be little crack whores. Don’t be stupid and quote the 80’s slogan “Just Say No!” That’s a crock of S@#* and also why Daddy tried drugs at 12 years old. Be realistic in your approach. Sit your children down and simply say “Look at Daddy, do you really want to grow up and be like this? You know Daddy cries sometimes because he is such a failure and never reached his full potential. You know why Daddy never reached his full potential kids? Marijuana, well not to call it a gateway drug but ultimately heroin.”
Then reinforce the fact you aren’t telling them not to do drugs but that drugs have consequences. Tell them if they do drugs you will buy it for them….. with their college money, because if they do drugs basically college is going to be a waste of time, so you might as well spend it on killing their brain instead of expanding it. Break it down for them, tell them exactly how much they have to spend on drugs/college, say if you go to college you will also get a car, if you do drugs I don’t want you driving and you will probably live at home with Daddy until you’re 40 and be working a McDonalds.
After you explain the whole situation depending on your child’s ability to negotiate they might talk about experimentation, like trying it a few times to see what it does, explain to them they have addictive personalities, for example harassing Daddy for ice cream like a crackhead every 5 seconds, then jumping off the walls and asking for more ice cream, that is a huge indicator that you will be addicted to drugs if you can’t even handle your ice cream addiction.
First, Daddy would like to clarify this tip is specifically geared for boys, sexist it might be, but let’s remember gender roles are real, know your role. As Daddy walked through the park yesterday with his kids running a muck, somewhere, not sure where, but they came back, unfortunately. But as Daddy walked in the park, I spotted a father and son walking together. The boy was a toddler and looked like he was just learning to walk. What pissed me off about his parenting skills wasn’t his keen supervision of his child, but as his child edged toward a puddle, he intervened and saved him from the soggy doom. As parents it’s our job not to teach our sons to grow up thinking Daddy is going to save us from trivial things like water. Luckily as this was happening my middle child came up and I whispered in his ear to push the boy in the puddle.
It annoys Daddy to no end when my children talk to me to begin with, but when they use that time to tell on each other, it sets Daddy threw roof. Tattle tailing children will grow up will no social skills because they are always looking for someone else to solve their problems. We all know those types of people today and they’re the ones you want to smash in the face with a Louisville slugger. Daddy teaches his children that “Snitches Get Stitches.” A saying my children love cause Daddy made it fun for them by singing it as a rhyme. Daddy tried making another rhyme like tattle tails might not go to jail but they have no friends cause they are pussies, the kids didn’t like that one to much. But I try to teach my children to spread the word for the greater good, when we go to the park now and a child says they are telling on them this set my children into stealth mode and they will go to extremes to prevent that child from snitching. It’s cute cause they chant “Snitches gets stitches.” As they kick the child in the spine.
Let’s be real for a moment, life will never give you what you want, so why raise your children with high expectations and create a major let down once they go out into the real world. By letting your children down daily and early in life, they quickly learn to take life by the horns and become self motivated, or they just cry in their room all day saying life isn’t fair. This will allow the parent to figure out early if your child is going to college or to make long term plans for them to live with you for the rest of your life. But it also helps the child because it doesn’t become devastating later in life, when they realize they can’t have everything.
Daddy likes to make promises that are nearly impossible to keep. For example: One day I was out with my daughter and she was misbehaving, I told her if she could be good for an hour I would buy her a Unicorn. Her face little up with joy and she quickly behaved for the rest of the trip. The next morning she asked Daddy if she could go now and get her Unicorn. My reply was, “Unicorns aren’t real!”
While taking a road trip with my children shortly after Christmas, they all received Nintendo DSi’s including 15 games a piece. But conveniently they all seemed to want to play only one game, so they all started fighting over the one game. My youngest, who knows his role as the baby in the family started crying. Now when my middle child punches the youngest in the face, he doesn’t flinch, but God forbid you take something from him and it is automatic water works. Daddy in his infinite wisdom did not feel like dealing with the situation, maybe it was the holiday hangover or sheer exhaustion of having three kids, but I decided to just take away all of the Nintendo DSi’s. I advised the children that they would not get them back until they figured out who was going to get what game. Well after 30 minutes and no conclusion, Daddy threatened to throw them out the window. My middle child looked me dead in the eye and said, “If you throw them out the window you will go to jail.” I advised him that Daddy knows the law and that I would only receive a fine, also if I can prove that some less fortunate kid off the street picked it up I can write that off on my taxes as charity work. My son then looked in my eyes through the rear view mirror again and with a straight face said, “I dare you to throw it out the window, I will ask Santa for another DSi next Christmas!”
Never let your children call your bluff it weakens your children’s perception of your false authority. So Daddy grabbed the DSi’s and abruptly rolled down the window, making a throwing motion. All the children started crying and my son, who was so cocky at first had now realized Daddy doesn’t bluff and screamed, “No I was joking, I am sorry.” But Daddy had already thrown them out the window, to little to late, little buddy.
Now that you have been lying to your children for several years telling them that on Christmas Eve you allow a fat man dressed in all red to break into your house and leave presents under the tree for exchange for milk and cookies, it’s time to ruin their imagination by telling your children you and mommy are big fat liars. My scenario was fairly easy. My children and I were in the car driving, Daddy gets horrible road rage, as I was swearing at some lady for driving to slow, I believe she was going 35 miles an hour in a 35 (who does that). My children advised me that Santa wasn’t going to visit me this year. So Daddy inquired further. “What do you mean Santa isn’t going to visit Daddy this year?” My children responded by telling me, “Santa isn’t going to give you presents because you have a bad mouth.” Maybe it was the fact that Daddy was still driving and still slightly enraged at the old lady but my children telling me that Santa was going to give me any presents completely set Daddy off. I responded in a way that any rational parent would, I said, “Santa not F@#%ing real, I buy you your presents and put them under the tree, Now you guys aren’t getting S#$% for Christmas because I’m going to spend all the Christmas money on myself! Mommy and Daddy have been lying to you for years and you kids were stupid enough to believe it! The F$%&ing JOKES ON YOU KIDS!” Then I relaxed my voice to a more pleasing tone and said, “Merry Christmas.”
Many parenting tips suggest talking to your child, like getting down to their level and asking something of them in a nice pleasant tone. As a parent Daddy will try anything once, just to see if it works. So the other day I asked my son in the nicest way possible to go upstairs and clean his room. My son looked at me and said, “No. Not gonna do it.” This sent Daddy into a fit of raged and I quickly yelled at the top of my lungs, “Go the f@#$ upstairs and clean your f#@%in room” My son didn’t hesitate, he ran faster then fugitive running from the police. At this moment I realized getting down to their level and asking them to do something nicely is a sign of weakness, as well as a complete waste of time. Now I just shout commands at them, this ensures things get done quickly. Yelling at your child teaches them the importance of urgency and possibly that their home life is a living hell.