Lately, Mommy’s parenting style has consisted of one technique: making deals. Ever since you became an actual person, with opinions and ideas about things, like wanting to eat poison or not wear shoes, every interaction is like she’s in 1998’s The Negotiator.
CRACK OF STUPID O’CLOCK: If Mommy lets you watch Diego on the iPad, will you let her close her eyes for another 17 minutes? Mommy knows this means the Baby Jaguar will haunt her dreams but she’s willing to make this sacrifice.
GETTING DRESSED: Put on pants and Mommy will let you have Corn Puffs for breakfast instead of the healthy quinoa berry organic yogurt she slaved over last night. Fine, yes, your Halloween costume counts as pants.
GOING TO DAYCARE: You can walk on your own. Use your feet. Walk this way. Ahhhhhh not into traffic! Alright, you’ve made your point. Mommy will carry you the whole way there, sciatica be damned.
PLAYTIME: Banging the metal radiator cover with a serving spoon is not cool! That is not a musical instrument! Fine, fine, it is a drum set, but only stop screaming the Ozzy Osbourne lyrics Daddy taught you (“Babe, come on, this is hilarious. We’ll be famous on Vine!”) while Mommy digs through the drawers for the expired Tylenol 3s from her C-section.
WHILE SHOPPING: We are not buying that toy / unhealthy food item / sharp thing. Okay okay okay! We are buying it! Stop the five alarm tantrum and Mommy will buy anything to avoid the judgmental stares from the entire store. Damn you, people who put candy in the checkout aisle.
DANGER: Don’t touch! Poke! Jump on! Lick! Swallow! Grab! Point! Run with! Drink! Play with! Yell at! Pull! Throw! Push! Carry! Tease! Chew! Use Magic Marker on! Provoke! Climb on! In exchange, Mommy will give you her iPhone to play with and pray it doesn’t end up in the toilet. Again.
BEDTIME: If you stop escaping from your big kid bed, demanding water in the middle of the night, emotionally blackmailing Mommy for another rendition of Twinkle Twinkle, asking for “one more story!” which actually means seven more stories, and you give Mommy 12 hours of sleep, in your own bed, without waking up, Mommy will buy you a Porsche. She’s that desperate for a solid night’s sleep.
DRINK: Let’s Make a Deal. 1 oz Cognac, splash of Chambord, splash of pineapple juice, and top with cranberry juice. Serve over ice and add freshly squeezed lime to taste. Use your sharply honed negotiating skills to get your husband to make it for you.