Meanest Mom In The Whole Wide World
My poor abused son. Bored out of his mind, never gets to do anything, never gets to go anywhere and he has the meanest mom in the hole wide world. Is it too late to return all of his gifts and buy him a tiny violin?
"Hold on buddy boy! Meanest mom?" I got your meanest mom! Kids today have no friggn' clue about mean moms. I mean, hell, the law doesn't even allow us to beat them!
"When I was your age..." Oh, he had that look again. You know that look punk ass kids get, and you just want to for one quick second, smack those rolling eyes right out of their pretty little heads? Well, that's the look.
"Number one, do not roll your eyes at me. Number 2, my mom, was by far, the meanest mom in the whole wide world. I may be a close runner up, but I can't hold a candle to Grandma. Number 3, if you think I am being mean because
a) I won't entertain you when you have a room full of toys
b) I won't go pick up a small handful of 12 and 13 year old boys so they can lounge at our house
c) I won't let you go hangout at the movie theater without adult supervision
than, yeah, I am mean. So deal with it."
He pouted. He's so cute when he pouts. It's kind of like the booboo face from Laverne and Shirley.
"Son, let me tell you about mean." (He slouched his shoulders and hung his head. He hates lectures as much as I hate giving them.) "When I was a kid and had Christmas break, Grandma made me her personal slave. I washed dishes, vacuumed and scrubbed the bathroom. I was younger than your sister and had to do all of that crap. My mom never let my friends come over and she didn't drive so asking her to take me somewhere or pick up a friend, was completely out of the question. Besides the fact that grandma could and did beat me every time I rolled my eyes. Hell, she even smacked me a couple of times when I just thought about rolling my eyes. Schools back in the day never told the kids, 'If your parents hit you, call 1-800-LUV-HRTZ.' No one gave a crap if your parents beat you. They brought you into the world, and if they wanted to, they could take you out, that's one thing grandma always reminded me about."
"I'm just bored. How come Sis gets to do stuff?"
"She is playing her guitar in her room, minding her own business, staying out of my hair and is completely content doing so. What is it that she gets to do that you can't?"
"I don't know. But you never get mad at her. You never give her lectures. She gets to do whatever she wants. She gets away with everything."
"Okay, let me get this straight. You are now no longer mad at me. You are mad at your sister because she doesn't get in trouble?"
"I'm not mad!"
"I can tell by your crinkled up eyebrows how not mad you are. What is wrong with you?"
The excitement of Christmas was getting the best of him. I can remember feeling the same way when I was his age. But another lecture wasn't something either of us was interested in, so I told him to go entertain himself for an hour.
"We have some holiday baking that needs to get done. And you're just the guy to help me do it. Go play for a while and I'll get the stuff ready."
He smiled and walked away.
I can only imagine, once we are done baking all of this crap, he will probably be whining about his belly ache from licking the bowl and beaters and that too will be my fault, for I am the Meanest Mom In The Whole Wide World.