I warn you now, my head is still filled with all the epic ways I still love Skyrim and some of the stuff that irks the crap out of me, so there may be a sequel to that one.
With that said, I asked Spawn one day “Do I troll you?”
To which Spawn responded with: “…. a little bit.”
Now if you’ve never heard of the term trolling, click the link and it will give you a bit of the internet history of it being basically a person who stirs up shit for their own amusement. That’s the very minimalist version, most true trolls are epic assholes. I don’t think I’ve hit quite that level.
Trolling my kid started from an early age, back even in diapers.
When Spawn was in the potty training stage, Spawn was perfect with toilet use at home, but always ended up in those damn pull-ups when I went to pick them up from daycare. Spawn didn’t want to stop playing to go to the bathroom and would intentionally go in their underpants to get a diaper put on.
I loudly informed the teacher with Spawn in hand, that if Spawn let it go in their underpants again they were to sit it in for a few minutes, just toss a bag over them and put them in a corner that you couldn’t smell and just let them enjoy their own stench. Overhearing this, Spawn never had another “accident.”
Spawn was going through the raging tantrum stage… now, I will say I was lucky and can only recall three really major episodes, all of which ended with either a bathroom or car visit (because of course they were public) and some sensitizing of a tiny backside, however there would be days when Spawn would be manipulating all of my hot buttons. One particular day, I leaned over and very low and soft I said, “you know, I do like you a LOT better than I did my other children.” The wide-eyed realization that crossed that face still makes me laugh.
The rest of that day was very quiet.
Oh and for those against the whole spanking thing, I say… meh. I tried the timeout thing once and ended up with a metal chair almost thrown at my head (Spawn was 3). A couple smacks to the butt might sting a few seconds, but then it’s over, your position of parental authority is reinforced (for a while at least) and I’m never disengaging as a parent (Who’s that time out really for?). So if you’re counting, Spawn has had three, maybe four spankings their entire life…so far.
When Spawn started trick-or-treating, I had already heard all the parents who bemoaned all the costume accessory crap they would end up carrying around before the night even got started. So I headed that one off really early by telling Spawn to only wear what they would wear all night because I had to keep my hands free in order to fight zombies, should any show up. To this day, Spawn will still carry my keys.
Spawn was going through a stage of toddler rebellion, I realized that what they wanted was a choice. So I figured out how to give a choice without it being a choice. “Do you want to get in the tub on your own or would you like me to throw you in?” It was rude, but it gave my kid a choice and things calmed down.
I used to often teasingly say to Spawn as a toddler, “Don’t make me beat you…” This backfired when my words were teasingly tossed back at me in the local store “Please don’t beat me!” *snicker*
Guess turnabout is fairplay…
I won’t accept that.
Nowadays, I troll Spawn by giving them vivid details of bathroom visits, or offering to take a picture.
Spawn has never been embarrassed to be around me… at least yet, so threatening to black out teeth has done little to amuse me. However, dropping them off at school and calling after them with a sad “I’ll miss you” when they are halfway across the courtyard garners me at least one good glare.
I will randomly text Spawn things like “It’s been too long, I don’t remember what you look like anymore” when they’re in school.
I tease constantly about this time-space that seems to only exist for kids in which when you say “a few minutes” this seems to translate to 30 to a kid. Spawn has been cooking dinner for us lately and a 30 minute recipe will take them an hour and a half.
“Is that in your minutes or real ones?”
And actually, Spawn’s interpretation of recipe reading has a lot to be desired. I had tried one of those food delivery services during the summer. With Spawn at home, they had plenty of time to read it over and make them up. Everything came in kits. It had fucking pictures. It really could not have been easier.
There would be leftover ingredients sitting on the counter…. always!
I realized Spawn was skimming. There were assumptive sentences and wording that was tripping them up so they’d ignore it. Like “After sauteing the chopped garlic (this would be skipped because “sauteing” was not understood, garlic would be left on cutting board, unchopped), mix the blah blah…..” Basically in that beginning phrasing, it would be the first time chopping or cooking that ingredient was mentioned and it didn’t specifically say “chop this.”
Spawn needed “Chop garlic tiny, put in pan with X butter, cook for X minutes.”
I get the recipes were worded for both efficiency and to still be descriptive enough to keep pace, but I guess kids or at least Spawn needed much simpler instruction.
Last night I told Spawn to make biscuits and gravy. I went over how to 3 times in 3 different ways.
When I got home, I got cut up summer sausage wearing goopy rue jackets… in a wok.
Yeah, visualize that a minute.
The biscuits were good, but then they were frozen and only had to be baked for 20.
Spawn has seen me eat sausage gravy.
Spawn has seen me a MAKE sausage gravy.
Times like this make me wonder if I’m the one who is getting trolled.
So…with that in mind, my latest text to Spawn:
“Ever wonder why you don’t use shampoo and conditioner on your crotch too? It’s just as susceptible if not more so to breakage and split ends.”