In order to connect with my inner child and to empathize with my son, I will behave like a three year old for the next month or so.
From now on, when frustrated, I’m going to scream at the top of my lungs and throw things. The volume and number of items thrown will be inversely proportional to the adult-perceived importance of the incident. If my shoes won’t work I’ll shriek and fling them. If my toys won’t work I’ll scream and throw everything within my grasp, hoping to break something. If the car won’t work when I’m late for something important, I’ll whine a bit but get over it quickly.
This month, if I see something really disgusting in the gutter, I’ll pick it up. And if it seems particularly dirty, I’ll try to put it in my mouth.
From here on out, if someone looks at me sideways, I will hit them.
Food will be used primarily for wiping on my shirt and on my parents.
For as long as I can, I will whine for other people to do everything for me. If someone won’t blow my nose within 0.2 seconds of my asking, I will scream until the snot comes out through my ears.
As much as possible, I will wait until something important is happening, either in a conversation, at a gathering, or at home, and will shriek “Listen to me!!” even if people already are.
I will choose 6am as the time for ringing my scooter bell incessantly.
If someone suggests I bathe, wash my hands, or brush my teeth, I will throw myself, writhing, to the floor. If they try to help me, I will scream until their eardrums rupture. If they don’t help me when I can’t do it, I will scream until their eardrums rupture. If they suggest that basic hygiene is necessary for inclusion in American society, I will kick them.
If anyone threatens my desire to have brownies for every meal, I will kick them, too.
Whenever someone else looks away, I will make a beeline for the last thing they forbade me to do, and I will touch it. A lot. And probably lick it. Because I can.
For the length of this social experiment, if anyone states that I may not wear my jammies every day until the end of time, I will writhe and flail about impotently as I whine that I don’t want to wear clothes. Ever.
If anyone dares use the telephone or computer while I am awake, I will break either their technology, their favorite knickknack, or their eardrums.
I will wear a jacket and rain boots when it is 90 degrees. If things cool off to, say, 50 degrees, I will don shorts and flip flops.
All of these behaviors are subject to change if anyone, and I mean anyone, figures them out. At that point, I reserve the right to do whatever obstructionist, violent, vocal, or illogical behavior necessary to get people out of my way. Unless I need them. Then I will use whatever technique necessary to get them to do my bidding.
you had me at obstructionist. or licking, i can’t remember.
This is awesome!
I admit, I have done this, sort of. I have thrown temper tantrums or whined for 20 minutes just to see how my kids liked it. They just laughed.
I can’t believe you wrote this: I was just plotting a guest blog from Roo because I’m so fascinated by how his mind works (which I might still do because I’ve been drafting it but dang, yours is so great that why would I even bother).
So fabulous, this post. And it’s particularly appropriate that I’m reading this now, as Roo is yelling (two hours after his bedtime): “I don’t wanna go to sleep!” and I’m trying to stay downstairs so as not to explode anywhere near him. Thank goodness for your ability to articulate and for your timeliness. Because I was feeling really, really alone in feeling DONE with the CRAP. You are the coolest. Anyway, bless you and good luck with the experiment.
@ Norm don’t lie. I had you at brownies.
@ Gibby I love that this comes just as your anniversary post lists the things you do. Medical copywriting may take more mental gymnastics, but this stuff takes more stamina, creativity, and patience.
@Ink, oh please do write the Roo post. I may do angry well, but your writing is heads and shoulders above mine. For perspective. And poetics. And character. And dialogue. And grammar-n-shit. So let Roo loose!
(Seriously, what is it about how they work? It makes perfect sense, I know, to them. But why is it so frustrating to us? Other than the part where we need them, eventually, to fit into society so they don’t live at home until they’re 50. And that they’re killing us.)
Please. Your writing is a billion times more interesting than mine! And I think the reason they drive us crazy is because they *are* in fact crazy-making machines. (And they’re mad at us because we are setting boundaries and stuff…and they just want their ids to run free.)
Yes, I am still downstairs, trying to wait out the yelling. And once in awhile, I say “What do you need, honey?” and he goes “Ahhhhhhhhhh!” So I really have no response to that.
Ink, I’m trying really hard not to laugh. Because I’d love to think up something, anything, as a response to “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Shakespeare in the Park enrollment forms, maybe?
I tire of being the superego. When does my id get to rule the world?
Great idea :) i only wish you had come out with this a little earlier would have been a lot of fun. Anyway it is not too late i guess ;)
Maybe the “Ahhhhhhhhhh” is a further manifestation of the id. It’s not that he wants anything in particular…he just wants.
And it’s ok to laugh. I did. Well, now that he finally went to sleep and then so did I. Now it seems funnier than it did last night.
Btw, William, what does that mean?
Ink, i don’t believe William will ever answer your question, as he is a spammer. He posted that comment with links to his debt reduction plan. I deleted his links and kept the comment because it’s funny how almost-sensical-but-not-quite most spam comments are. And i like the extra comment in there. To foil him in his efforts.
And ps: LOL on your superego comment, Nap!
Rock on, Writer Lady. Fantastic post!
PS: Your id DOES rule the world. He lives in your house and is three.
PPS: If acting like a 4 year-old girl didn’t involve princess dresses, time-outs and chocolate restrictions, I’d behave like my daughter too. I’m afraid she’d have too much fun if I did, though. And that is unacceptable.
You know, I think everyone deserves a good temper tantrum. I suggest when you need one, quietly, gently leave Peanut, enter your room and scream or throw pillows or meditate. Just don’t throw glass bottles.
That is funny that you left the comment! Subversion city!
What I *really* wanted to say to William was “What could that mean?” — said dripping with condescension (a quote from David Mamet, Oleanna).
I did my Roo post today.