by Miss What's-Your-Name-Again?

Dear Dad at Undisclosed Popular Housewares Store,

As I endeavored to close the elevator doors at [Undisclosed Popular Housewares Store] and travel to the floor on which I was under the impression that I had parked (I hadn’t;) as you might recall, your young child kept running over and pressing the “up” button, thereby repeatedly causing the doors to reopen just as they were about to close, as he squealed in delight at my [impressively] restrained protestations.  As I grew visibly anxious, you laughed and shrugged as you called to me, “Kids!  Whaddya gonna do?”

In case you were unclear, the look I gave you in return translates directly to: “Eat shit and die” (meaning “Ingest feces and then immediately cease to exist,” not to be mistaken for “Eat, shit, and die,” that’s the importance of proper punctuation, kiddos.)

Here’s the thing.  And this is for you too, children.  I spend more hours of my life around kids than I do around adults, or even just hanging out by myself (my most preferred mode of hanging.)  And, more often than not, when I am around you, I am asking you to stop doing something, or giving you some sort of inane, half-baked reason you shouldn’t do something you obviously shouldn’t fucking do.  Having caught you in the act of picking your nose, I am ordering you to go wash your hands in the bathroom, and then having you slip your little boogery hand in mine as I escort you down the hallway to it.  I am constantly getting knocked over and/or hit in the face with all sorts of PE equipment because you collectively decided to disregard the rules of whatever weird ass game you’re playing.  Unfailingly, it is I who have my expensive designer clothes marked up with sharpies or oil-based paint, regardless of the number of times I implore you to check and see what’s in your hand before you begin wildly gesticulating as you debate Star Wars or Lego Star Wars.  And the only person, it would seem, to ever follow the school’s internet safety rule to always keep your Instagram profile set to “private” is ME, which, as far as I can see, has served only in preventing me from ever making it to the popular page, which I am quite positive a number of my dog posts would, given the opportunity.

Let me answer your question that I was previously unable to for fear of cursing in front of your precious child.  “Whaddya gonna do” is that you fucking attempt to motivate your child to stop being a jerkwad.  As I attempt to do, every single day of my working life.  I find bribery to be extremely effective when your imagination fails you.

Is it spring break yet,

Miss What’s-Your-Name-Again?