Please Stop Talking, Little Man

Before I get into the post, I hope everyone had a nice Christmas and New Year! Ours went well, although the house still hasn’t quite recovered from the Christmas presents tornado. We’re getting there, though. The day after Christmas, I got some great news — after initially being denied for my cochlear implant by the insurance company, it was approved after my doctor talked to them. Yay! Surgery is a little over two weeks away.


And now for the post.

Taking Little Man to the doctor always gives me anxiety. Always. It’s not so much that I’m worried about something being wrong with him so much as I’m worried about what he’s going to say. (Considering that this is coming from someone with an anxiety disorder who gets on WebMD way too much, this is saying something.) He has quite a knack for saying bizarre (although sometimes hilarious) things and for making us sound like we’re coming in dead last for the Parents of the Year Award.

This post has a few of his little moments…

Dammit, Little Man, you had half of a burrito! A burrito! I can see where a four-year-old might get the two words confused, but still, that is significantly more food than half of a stinking chip. And it was your choice to only eat half of your burrito, by the way.

This one was also when he was four, but he still believes this. Despite telling me about dreams and grumbling over being woken up, he still believes that he doesn’t sleep at night. No amount of telling him that he’s asleep when I check on him will sway him. He has recently started talking about getting up at 3 AM to walk around during the Devil’s Hour to see if there’s anything evil happening. As someone with insomnia, I can tell you that’s not happening, either.

So, is that why you beg me to take you to McDonald’s three times per week, because you’re about that healthy lifestyle? I don’t think so. But thanks for making it sound like all I do is feed you kids junk food.

Oops, I have a double arm. Not fixing it.

He told the optometrist that he was certain about having X-ray vision, by the way. This was a few months ago. The optometrist didn’t push the matter.

The doctor about hit the ceiling and so did I. He left with a lecture and a printout of about a dozen pages on the dangers of smoking. We got home and I pulled up pictures and videos of lungs, cancer, etc. to scare him. He later said it was just a joke. As he would say now, “Ya got trolled, bro!” (Thanks, YouTube.)

The assistant assured him that everything was clean, but he still narrowed his eyes and gave her a suspicious look. He later questioned why they put books and magazines in the exam rooms and suggested that they just wanted to make people sicker. I’ve often wondered that myself, especially at pediatric offices where toys are available for the kids to play with.

Little Man has a hangup over restrooms. This has led to certain health issues that I’m not going in to here for his privacy, but those health issues aside, his commentary was pretty funny. After discussing some things, Little Man went on a rant about public restrooms. He hates them. I get this, because I hate them, too, but usually you wouldn’t expect that from a little boy.

Suggestions to line the toilet seat or to clean it with Lysol wipes weren’t well received.

He also lines the toilet seat at home. Thankfully he skips lining the floor.

I think you might be contributing to the problem, kid.

This was to a new specialist he saw a couple weeks ago. My husband took him to this appointment and said that she didn’t skip a beat.

What embarrassing thing has your kid said at the doctor’s office?

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No Health For You

There are lots of ways that you can piss off your kids. Tell them that screen time is over for the day. Mention that bath time or bedtime is just around the corner. Announce that no more fun will be had until the toys are picked up and the house doesn’t look like a tornado came through.

All of these things will certainly make little tempers flare and have them shooting daggers at you, but wanna know the worst thing you can do? Offer them something healthy when they ask for a snack — they’ll treat this as the ultimate act of betrayal, one that is worthy of a spot in the ninth circle of hell.

Now I much prefer snacks of the non-healthy variety, too. My “never saw a gap” thighs can attest to that. However, most of my non-healthy snacks are consumed after the kids go to bed, in an effort to minimize the bad example I set for the kids. Unfortunately, Little Man is catching on to that. He once mentioned how unfair it is that the parents get to stay up and watch TV and eat junk food after he goes to bed. Dude, I just listened to 10 hours of nonstop chatter about Pokemon, Minecraft, Peppa Pig, and farts — you really wanna talk about unfair?

For the record, I’m not a total junk food Nazi; as evidenced by Baby Girl’s love of popsicles, they get sweets. Maybe too many sometimes, especially if we’re going to Chick-Fil-A with their amazing ice cream and follow that up with a trip to Walmart, land of the free cookies. But I do try to make sure that most of their food doesn’t have a lot of added sugar and actually has some nutrients, which makes me a bit of an asshole mom in their eyes.

Despite being pretty reasonable, both kids still try to find a way around the rules (pretty sure they’re hard-wired to do so). Sometimes they think whining will do the trick, which is annoying, but other times their attempts are rather humorous.

This one is from when Little Man was around age 4.

No beating around the bush with him!

Last week, Baby Girl went at it from a different angle.


Nice try, Baby Girl. If only!

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