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My Kid's A Pain In The Ass

 Elynn Alexander
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 Elynn Alexander
My Kid's A Pain In The Ass
by Elynn Alexander  FollowFollow
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Elynn Alexander (Lynn) is the producer and editor of web and print content for Full Of Crow Press And Distribution, which includes Full Of Crow,...read more Fashion For Collapse, MUST, and other projects in addition to distribution of zines and independent publications. Visit Full of Crow. She is also an organizer of poetry events and a partner artist in a local environmental art program that partners creativity with science to raise the profile of concerns. www.elynnalexander.com
My Kid's A Pain In The Ass
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YOU CAN'T LOOK INTO THEIR little blue eyes and tell them to piss off.
Even when they are ranting about cage free eggs and they have leather cowgirl boots on, because they haven't figured out that they have dead cow skins on their feet. And you don't dare tell them.
My kid thought Ivory soap was made of ivory, and used to ask if that involved poaching. Buying things in this house always leads to an interrogation with this one, who could shame you with your styrofoam and "excessive packaging" in two seconds flat.
I worry that she will be a snotty yuppie someday, feeling superior down at the Whole Foods, carrying reusable bags with pride to an obnoxious SUV.
Don't get me wrong, I like to do the right things. But let's face it, sometimes you cave to convenience and you really don't want to hear about it. And unless you are Ed Begley Junior, you are in no position to point fingers.
I try to explain the problem with this kind of thing, but seven year olds don't get it yet. They no sooner tell you about the assembly for bullying and they are on the sidewalk, calling some kid a fuck face. They're little hypocrites, even though they will call you out on that shit every day.
And they know everything. When I was a kid, I had Saturday morning cartoons and Love Boat. Now, they have hundreds of channels that make them disproportionately educated compared to their moronic parents, not to mention we've forgotten things over the years and it takes us a bit of head scratching to recall the capitol of North Dakota. Especially... if you don't give a shit about North Dakota.
Now ask me about "old Metallica" and I'd beat your ass on Metal Jeopardy.
But the chief export of Malaysia? No, kids. Mom has Wikipedia for that now.
They come at you with random factoids on everything from food to crocodiles. And there's nothing like Animal Cops: Houston to make your little girl want to call the cops on everybody with a dog.

"His ribs are showing, I bet they can't provide documentation that he's seen a vet."
The dog on the step is skinny, and could probably use a sandwich. But so could the owner, who tells her she can pet the dog.

"He don't bite, sweetie."
My kid wants to know if he has had his temperament tested.
The guy says he don't have no rabies. He tells her rabies are like the measles, ain't no dog ever get 'em anymore.
She tells him he can get low cost shots at the firehouse. She saw a flyer at the Spankle Mart. He should look for it, maybe take down the information.
She sounds like a social worker, very matter-of-fact about everything, never worried about offending anyone. I try, but I can't always stop her mouth. It just comes out this way.
You can't tell your kid to just quit talking to EVERYBODY. But you can anticipate when they get that thoughtful squint to their eyes and try to shoo them away. When you miss the boat though, forget it.
She tells the guy (who lives in the converted garage next door) that he can get a coat for half off at the thrift store's monthly Family Day. He tells her he doesn't like coats. He's outside in a tank top, tattoos bared (looking hot if you ask me) but she's thinking he must be crazy:
"But, it's 23 degrees."
She always knows the weather. She checks it on my phone.
"I have a coat, I just don't like to wear them."
"I hope you don't die," she says.
Thank god he thinks she's a pisser, and always brings up the time she asked the cops what they were doing on our property when a car crashed in front of the house. I guess she never got the memo that you don't question "authority".

They were looking around for bits of car. She thought we should be allowed to keep them, for our trouble. "Maybe they need evidence to show the car is really smashed."
A week later, we found some shards of taillights. She slipped them into her pocket. I forgot and had plastic car parts tumbling in my dryer making a racket for an hour before I got off Facebook to go check it out. One thing you can never forget in this house: check the damn pockets.
That, and Facebook has brought down many an organized mom.
Of all the people in the world, it's amazing how you can fear the scorn of a little girl the most.
If you've ever gotten a speeding ticket with kids in the car, you know what I mean. You don't care about the points, you care about your suckass parenting.
You change your ways from that kind of guilt, you want to be better, you take things to heart.
And when they get on little kid high horses, you know that there are tons of things you do wrong that they don't even know about. So you let them take their shots.

YOU CAN'T LOOK INTO THEIR little blue eyes and tell them to piss off.
Even when they are ranting about cage free eggs and they have leather cowgirl boots on, because they haven't figured out that they have dead cow skins on their feet. And you don't dare tell them...
One day, she tells me the guy next door finally got a damn jacket. Looking out the window, she looks pleased.
It's leather.
And I swear he looked at that window and smiled, every trace of badass gone, but looking even hotter in a weird way- if you ask me- wearing his dead cow jacket to appease the kid. At least until he got to his pick up truck.

1 comments

Discussion

  2 years ago
This story was a balm to my soul! My kid might be a 23 year old guy and not a seven year old girl, but he too is a pain in the ass! I once told him I'm astonished that as stupid as I am the state still allows me to drive a car and handle my own money without a keeper. To my dismay, I think he a...read moregreed.
 

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