Little Hoss would not go down for her nap. There was fighting, there was fussing. There were Jihads issued but she would not go down. She is the queen of the stall.
No, no dad, I can’t go to sleep because I don’t have my pacifier. It somehow ended up being flung across the room and now is behind the bookshelves. I have no idea how this happened, Dad, I swear. But it’s behind the bookshelves.
10 minutes later…………..
Ya know Dad, it’s the damndest thing. My pacifier is again behind the bookshelves. I think we may have gremlins but hey, what are you going to do?
This went on for about 3 hours and ended with me just putting on my headphones and rocking to some mindless violence on my xbox. It helps destroying teenager’s egos rather than beating my kids or taking my anger out on some helpless passer-by. I would not walk your dog near my house between 3 and 4 pm.
As punishment, because I am Dad and all must feel my wrath, I decried that there will be no Backyardigans for any children that do not go down for a nap.
So we didn’t watch any, which she did not enjoy and instead substituted a little forced SportsCenter—she’ll thank me for it later.
I thought that was it, I have proved my point. Again, if this blog doesn’t make this completely clear: I am a fool. Seriously, I shouldn’t be raising kids. I freely admit that I have no qualifications whatsoever. A 2 year old out smarts me on a daily basis.
Hossmom gets home and we eat dinner. Then we put the kids to bed and I think that this is it and that no revenge will be coming my way from the Backyardigans play I made earlier.
An hour into bedtime and we notice that there is noise coming from Little Hoss’s bedroom.
We walk in and there is my daughter, not making a peep, watching South Park on the TV I put in her bedroom when we moved into the hut. I know, many many mistakes here on my part, let’s just let that go.
Little Hoss is giggling under her breath while she is sitting on the floor. She knows that she isn’t supposed to be watching TV and I had no idea she could even turn it on and then find cartoons.
We turn it off and Hossmom is shocked that she seems to know the characters on South Park. I let it slip that we watch it together in the mornings.
“You let a 2 year old watch South Park?” she says while giving me the look of death. Ah, another parenting snafu compliments of Hossman.
“Um, yes?” I say trying to make it sound like a question because I am really just trying to give any answer that won’t get me in trouble.
“She can’t watch South Park!”
I try to back peddle, I try to explain but I pretty much know at this point that it is hopeless and that my conniving, manipulative little daughter played me, she played me hard. Now I am in shit and she knows it as well as I do.
Try as I might to explain that a 2 year old can’t understand the words or what is going on, that it’s just pretty pictures to her, Hossmom is not buying it.
Then Hossom decrees that there will be no more South Park.
Oh, touché my little one, touché.
I see the game that you are playing, I see it very well. I drink your milkshake, I drink it up!
This almost seems to be a Shakespearian plot of betrayal and revenge. Bruce Willis will play me in the movie.