Squish: Mom, I lost a tooth! Do you want to hear the story?
Squish: Chatter chatter chatter AND THERE WERE EPIC AMOUNTS OF BLOOD!
Me: That’s AWESOME! That’s a good tooth story.
Squish: Thanks– is the tooth fairy going to come.
Me: Uhm, I think the tooth fairy needs to walk from the hallway to your bed for that to happen.
Squish: *suspiciously* Why can’t she fly?
Me: Because there’s a ceiling fan, and she will get chopped in half.
Squish: *not buying it for a minute* Ooooh… That’s a good one. Good thinking mom– ceiling fan.
(btw– Squish is nine– most kids lose all their teeth by seven. Tonight, when we were letting our kids watch the way-the-fuck age inappropriate Bones, they talked about how the parents were going to play the tooth fairy. At the end of the show, Squish gave me a SEE!!! sort of snort, and a “I knew you were bullshitting me” glare. I tried– that’s all I got.)
But continuing on…
Squish: Yeah, losing the tooth was good. *her voice drops* But this morning Connor…
Now I have heard of Connor. He’s a real charmer– he beats her at foursquare by cheating, shouts mean things at her on the playground, and when she picks up his pencil after he drops it, he throws it away. I know he’s probably some mother’s son, but I hate the little turdwhacker and I hope he loses his adult teeth at the age of ten by running into a pole. Did we mention this post is about why I’m a bad mom?
And once again, continuing on…
Me: *dangerously* What did Connor do?
Squish: He invented the Squish-touch.
Me: *stunned* Like the cheese-touch, in Diary of a Wimpy Kid? Where anyone who touches the cheese is stinky and shunned?
And she was so happy, and this hurts her so bad.
Me: Well, the next time Connor talks about the “Squish touch” you tell him this for me. You tell him that he is a sad little person, and that he is going to die in his thirties after having accomplished nothing, and he will be bald and unpopular and nobody in his life will love him, and in the meantime, you will have gone to Europe and changed the planet. And in the meantime, you don’t have to put up with his bullshit because you are a better person than he is and always will be.
Squish; Mom! *she laughs* I can’t remember all of that!
Me: Tell him he’s bullshit. Use the word. And be sure to have the yard duty call me if you get in trouble.
Squish: *quiet* Thanks mom.
Me: You’re my beautiful Squishy. This kid is a cockroach. Believe it.
And there you go. All the reasons I’m a bad mother.