“Are you going to finish eating that? ‘Cause, if you aren’t, I will.”
I said that to my dog.
It’s not pretty. It’s just true.
Yesterday, we played “Did I Say It to My Child or My Dog?”
And yesterday, bless your sweet and darling “think the best of everyone” hearts, you thought I said that to my child. You really are the nicest.
You’ve heard it said that in the midst of war you never know how far you’ll go. Oh, you hope that you’re a hero. You hope that you’re noble. You hope that you’re decent. But I dare say that even the ones who commit the most heinous crimes once had hopes of goodness.
There are some moms who survive temporary single parenting with grace and courage. Their heads are held high, and their shoulders are back. Their minds are clear, and their eyes are forward.
I am not that mom.
It was the last night of my nine day stand. I had only to plant my flag firmly in the soil and wait for reinforcements to arrive. It was the twilight of battle, and victory was on the horizon.
But the dog. My dear, sweet, ever-obedient dog. He found my weak spot. He flanked me when I let down my guard. And, quick as a whip, he snatched my piece cheese-and-herb encrusted chicken.
And he partook.
But while he was fast enough to snatch it, he wasn’t fast enough to finish it before I caught him.
And I’m not proud of what happened next. So not proud, in fact, that I’m a little reluctant to tell you about it.
But I have a friend named Torey. He’s a football coach at our local high school. (Go, Tigers!) And he has told my wimpy kids a time or two to nut up. “Nut. Up.” he says. Then he goes all drill sergeant. “NUT UP!”
It’s awesome. I’d ask Torey to live here just to yell “NUT UP!” at my kids, but I bet his wife, Christy, wouldn’t approve. And she’s a kindergarten teacher. Which is, like, a hardship assignment for only the toughest teachers, so I’m pretty sure she’d take me in a fair fight.
So, living out my desire to be a parent worthy of following, I shall lead by example, nut up, swallow my embarrassment, and tell you this…
I said to the dog, “Are you going to finish eating that? ‘Cause, if you aren’t, I will.”
And, even worse, I actually meant it.
Sadly, I never got to follow through on my threat, because I lost the element of surprise. And that dog bolted right through his dog door and finished his feast in the backyard.
I’ve said it to my dog before, and I’ll say it again,
“Well played, dog. Well played.”
Grade your papers!
- I said to my dog: “Are you going to finish eating that? ‘Cause, if you aren’t, I will.”
- I said to my dog: “It’s very hard for me to type when your entire body is laying across both the keyboard and my wrists. Pick one: keyboard or wrists. You can’t have both. And I mean it.”
- I said to my dog: “Oh, geez, dude! You have GOT to learn to wipe better.”
- I said to my child but WISH I could say to my dog: “Please unload the dishwasher. And don’t even ask — yes, I mean the whole thing and by yourself.“
- I said to my dog: “Well, how much plastic did you eat? Like, am I gonna have to get you some medical intervention, here, or what?”
- I said to my child: “Stop licking me,” I said. And then I paused. “Actually, you know what, Licker? The truth is, I just can’t take all the face licking. Or the foot licking. Or the foot lickingfollowed by the face licking. It’s gross. Do you think you can confine your licking to the back of my legs? Yes? Awesome. That would be GREAT.”
- I said to my dog: “Seriously? You have to make a choking sound when you’re excited? Why can’t you just go ahead and throw up already?”
- I said to my child: “No, you cannot pee in a cup just because she did it. … Aw, come on. Don’t fuss. …Fine! You know what? Here’s a cup. Knock yourself out.”
And, in closing, these just in from reader Hanna:
“Put DOWN the underwear and choose the CHEESE!”
“Stop putting chewed up ham in my shoe, please!”
I don’t know, Hanna! Dog and child? Do tell!