I’m not sure if you knew, but I’m pretty much the best, most perfectest mom ever in the history of ever. I don’t need to tell you that’s sarcasm, right internet? Maybe? Eh. Is this satire now? I feel like I used to know what that was but I think I lost it somewhere along the way during my Wild Adventures in Blogging. People seem to have created this new, vague definition. Anyway, back to my perfection.
1. Language Police Mom
Firstly, that sounds like an awesome name for some sort of knockoff Barbie doll; you know the kind made of the same plastic they use for those KoolAid bottle-things that your cheap Aunt used to buy for you years after you’d stopped playing with dolls? Complete with police uniform, perfectly curled hair and a baby under each arm.
Secondly, I appreciate it when people curb their language for children. That’s real nice and respectful, otherwise known as common courtesy. And yeah, it kind of sucks when some asshole (heh… heheh, irony is fun) is cursing up a storm three feet from my perfect and innocent offspring, but hey, welcome to reality. A mystical place full of things that really suck; like people, for instance. As we step out into this land of people I can’t control with a withering ‘mom’ glare, I watch my daughter’s mounting confusion and horror. Those are bad words, she knows those are bad words because from time to time her mother says similar words and tells her those are bad words. I steel myself for life lesson time, usually by ordering more coffee.
Dearest child –I begin— cursing can be fun. It can be honed into a fine, enjoyable art. But, like many fun things in life, you typically have to be of an appropriate age to enjoy them. Now is not that age, nor will it ever be whilst you exist under my roof and I am legally responsible for your transgressions. If you happen to express such language in my supreme direction, I will personally ensure that I embarrass you in front of every boy (girl?) you like in the history of ever.
And lastly, it’s a mom’s job to protect their children, pretty much, but there exists this fine, judgy line between protection and total realistic disconnection. Remember I’m totally perfect, here, so yeah…