Me: You boys need to take baths tonight.
Nick [wailing]: Noooo! We took baths last night!
Jack: Do I have to take a bath tonight, mommy?
Jack: Oh, thank you mommy! I love you! [gives me big hug; the little suck-up]
Nick: Can I ask Dad if I have to take a bath?
Me: Yes, but HE’S GOING TO TELL YOU TO TAKE A BATH!
Nick [to George in other room]: Do I have to take a bath tonight?
Nick [wailing]: Nooooooo!
George: The horror! A bath!
Me: Yes, it’s child abuse.
Nick will grow up to write a Mommy and Daddy Dearest memoir of the horrors of being raised by loving parents who
1) do not allow him to eat candy for breakfast,
2) buy him new clothes of his choice each season and then force him to wear these new clothes he picked out himself so he doesn’t look like a hobo in public,
3) make him do his homework, feed the dog, and clean his room,
4) do not allow him put tape on furniture, walls, or bedding,
5) insist that he must throw away the packaging to all the toys he receives,
6) will not let him read T for Teen comic books because he’s not a teen yet,
7) make him play outside,
8) limit his computer time,
9) won’t buy him every toy he wants,
10) make him go to bed at 8:00 on school nights and 8:30 all other nights,
11) have made sure he will be the last kid on the street to get a Wii…if he gets one EVER, and
12) make him take a bath when he is dirty.
Yep. Call Child Protective Services right now. He is clearly being abused.
With your tongue planted firmly in cheek, please share how were you “abused” as a child, or how you “abuse” your own children in the comments. My dad made me and my sister pick up pinecones in our back yard on SATURDAY MORNINGS, when all kindly treated children were inside watching cartoons.