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.