Pleeeeeease Mom, Just This Once
~By Karen Alpert, Baby Sideburns
The other day about five minutes after I put my daughter to bed, I hear the pitter-patter of her stinky feet coming down the hallway.
ZOEY: Mommy! I want another story!
The way I see it I have two choices. Tell her “no” and deal with a crying, slobbering, snotting 3.5-year-old AND a crying, slobbering, snotting 15-month-old because she’s bound to wake up her brother too. OR I can just tell her the stupid story. You know, sometimes you’re ready to fight the battle, and sometimes you’ve got popcorn in the microwave and the DVR cued up to the season finale of the Real Housewives of Miami.
ME: A princess walks into the woods and meets a sparkly unicorn and he has wings so they fly off together and are friends forever, the end, I love you, goodnight.
And then a night or two later it was this.
ZOEY: Mommy! I’m thirsty!
Here we go again. Only when I went to the bathroom someone (translation: the only other grownup in the house) removed the stupid water cup to clean it. WTF? Does a water cup really need to be cleaned? You clean it with f’ing water every time you drink from it. Fine, I guess it gets spit on it, but, grrrrr, I need that cup now.
The way I see it, this time I have three choices. Treat her like an abused POW and tell her no, she can’t have any water and pray DSS never hears about it, drag my ass downstairs to get another water cup, OR give her some water in that dinky little medicine cup that comes with the Tylenol bottle. (So I don’t get a lot of shit from the scary ass Mommy brigade, the cup had never been used before, so no, there were no “traces” of Tylenol in it to poison my kid.)
You guessed it, I went with numero treso. And boy did she LOVE it! Now she calls it the “baby” cup and insists on drinking from it ALLLLL the f’ing time.
Sometimes when we’re in the kitchen she asks me if she can go get the baby cup for her milk. Sounds harmless enough, right? Ehhhhh, wrong. Because do you know how many times I would have to refill that stupid shot glass? And how difficult it would be to fill it from the ginormous gallon milk container that I already spill half the time? So I give her the answer immediately.
ZOEY: Pleeeeeeease. Just this once.
ME: No. N-O. No way, no how.
And here’s my point to this article. Yes, it took me over 400 words to get to my point, so sue me. In this country you probably could. My point is this. There is no such thing as letting your kid do something just once. It doesn’t happen. Because once you let them do it once, they’re going to ask again. And again and again and again. Until your kid is whining more than Caillou has in his entire illustrated lifetime and you’re ready to put both your ears through a meat grinder just to stop the pain.
So when my kiddo asks me if she can wear her Rapunzel dress to school just this once, the answer is no. When she asks me if she can have two desserts just this once, the answer is no. And when she asks me if she can skip washing her hands after peeing just this once, the answer is no. Absolutely not. And why the F would you want to go eat dinner with pee on your hands anyway? Just sayin’.