AND THE AWARD FOR “WHY DID YOU BOTHER HAVING CHILDREN” GOES TO …
Seriously, why do some people bother having kids if they’re going to raise them like goldfish? And frankly, I’ve seen goldfish get better treatment than the children of tonight’s nominees.
And here they are: Absent-Minded Abby, Don’t-Bother-Me Bob, If-You-Don’t-Like-It-Then-You-Take-Care-Of-Her Hillary, Snarlin’ Snake-eyed Snookie, and last but not least, If-You-Do-That-One-More-Time-So-Help-Me-I’m-Going-To-Tell-Your-Mother-And-Then-You’ll-Really-Be-In-Trouble Tyrell.
So let’s meet the … “parents” …
Absent-Minded Abby parks her car in the library’s parking lot. It’s a hot and humid day and the car is in the sun, so she is hurrying to get into the air-conditioned library. The windows are up, except for about a two-inch gap to let some of the trapped hot air out of the car. She’s already beginning to sweat as she gathers her purse, and the books, and DVDs, and oops, a couple of books fall on the ground. Oh no, her cell phone is ringing. She manages to answer it and holds it to her ear with her shoulder. She’s got all the books now, plus the DVDs, and still talking – what a multi-tasker – hurriedly heads into the library.
About four minutes later, she comes running out of the library and heads straight for the car.
Oops. Looks like she forgot to take her daughter out of the car seat.
Don’t-Bother-Me Bob, beer in hand, leans on the fence to talk to his neighbor. Apparently proud of his physique, he sports a holey, sleeveless, sweat-stained, dirty white t-shirt that’s a bit too short for his hanging beer gut. The females in the neighborhood must wait with bated breath to catch a glimpse of those keg-styled abs. And his shorts? Those are hand cut Daisey Dukes, baby, with nicely uneven raggedy edges. And he’s cut them just short enough so that his privates are more public than anyone wants to see. Oh yeah … Bob obviously believes he’s the neighborhood stud.
His son, in yellowed and obviously loaded diapers, is as dirty on the outside as his diapers are on the inside. His tears are leaving streaks down his cheeks through the dirt on his face. He looks like he was eating dirt and discovered it doesn’t taste like chocolate.
“Daddy,” he screams. “Daddy … help.”
Bob yells back, “Just wait. I’m talking to Frank.”
“Daddy,” he screams again. “Help.” By this time the son is but a couple of feet from his dad.
Without looking down, he takes his leg and pushes his son away. “Just wait I said. I’m talking to Frank.”
“Daddy,” he screams even louder. “Help.”
“Go in the house, BJ. Now. When I’m done talking to Frank I’ll come in. Just watch TV or something. Go!”
If-You-Don’t-Like-It-Then-You-Take-Care-Of-Her Hillary pushes the carriage up next to one of the tables in the bookstore’s café. She plops her cottage cheese-looking derriere unceremoniously on the chair. The kid in her carriage starts crying.
In an act of true caring, Hillary very slowly and gently eases the paper wrapping off the mammoth muffin she ordered. The kid in the carriage continues crying.
Suddenly, something clicks in Hillary’s brain. “Hey clerk-lady,” she yells at the café worker. “You forgot to give me my butter. I’d like it now please.” And the kid in the carriage continues crying, albeit somewhat louder.
It looks like her motherly instincts finally kicked in. “Oh baby,” she coos. “See? Mama didn’t forget you.” Unfortunately, she was cooing to the muffin as she spread the butter all over it. And the kid in the carriage has gone from crying to screaming.
Another mother, sitting a couple of tables over, looks at Hillary and says, “Maybe you should check out your child.”
Hillary, apparently recognizing that something is wrong, looks at the other mother and says, “It takes a village, bi7ch. If you don’t like it then you take care of her.”
Snarlin’ Snake-eyed Snookie takes apparently no pleasure in shopping with her two sons at K-Mart. And her sons take apparently no pleasure in shopping with her either. But they make the best of it by running and playing in the aisles, bumping into customers, knocking things off shelves and generally leaving a wake of disapproving looks as they go from aisle to aisle. Snookie does a lot of snarlin’ about the prices, the choices and occasionally, about her boys behavior. When confronted by a store manager - finally - who politely asks her to watch her children a little better, she snarls something about “Why is everything so expensive now?” and then flashes him “the look.”
They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, and hers are venomous. The manager backs off. Her kids continue with their carnage. And Snookie just keeps snarlin’ along.
And last but not least, If-You-Do-That-One-More-Time-So-Help-Me-I’m-Going-To-Tell-Your-Mother-And-Then-You’ll-Really-Be-In-Trouble Tyrell. Do I really need to say any more?
So there we have our … “parent” … nominees. And the award goes to …
OMG. It’s a five-way tie. Congratulations to all the “winners.”
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