|Actual Photo Documenting My Daughters' Bedroom Floor|
I’ve had it.
The stuffed animals are everywhere. My house looks like a Beanie Baby puppy mill exploded inside a Star Trek replicator. The girls’ room has a veritable carpet of stuffed animals. No exaggeration—I’ve given up trying to step around them, and now when I have to enter the room I just walk on their squishy heads and floppy, furry limbs.
No, I don’t hear them crying. And I wouldn’t care if they did—
Oh, golly. I’m sorry—that one was actually the cat.
I’ve asked the children—repeatedly, ad nauseum, until my throat has gone hoarse with the effort and relentlessness of my simple request—to please pick up the freakin’ animals!!!
But they have not.
They think I am impotent, evidently, to do anything about the rabbit-like proliferation of fake fur and fiberfill that litters my living space.
But I am not.
Guess what Mother is about to do? It involves two black 42-gallon Hefty bags…
Oh, take a pill. I’m not going to throw them out. Or burn them.
Nope, I’m going to hold them hostage.
Every cat and dog and bear and bunny and otter and dragon and ocelot is going to be my personal lever of leverage to get everything else I want done, done.
My older daughter is, one might say, unmotivated when it comes to homework. “I already know this stuff. Why do I have to waste my time doing stupid busywork to prove it?”
Because you’ll never see Darla the Dolphin again unless you do. Dear.
That’s right. Daughter will get one critter back for every A she earns on an item of homework.
Little Girl is going to learn about the gravity of her mother’s mandate to pick up her things after showers. Every evening that clothes are properly stowed and the towel is not mildewing on the floor or on the couch or in her bed, she will receive the reward of one inmate's liberation from Black Plastic Prison.
There's enough faux wildlife in my house that I think I can make this last till at least the older one leaves for college.
I’m hopeful that one day, after enough experiences contending with the Mother Who Shall Not Be Overcome, the children will take it seriously when I say, “We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way”.
Either way, it’s no fur off my hide.
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