I am now, officially, a Nazi Mum. I am the Worst Mum in the World. And, allegedly, a Moron.
How do I know?
Because my son told me so.
OK, I’ll concede on the Moron bit. Because I did suggest that going to the movies with a Grumpy Old Fucker, an Obnoxious Little Fucker, and an Almost Fucker to the movies. Idiot!
For just that moment, I felt that taking 3 people who were bored, obnoxious, grumpy and, well, behaving like fuckers, was a sane and sensible thing to do. Then I atempted to take them shopping for a present for my brother. Stupid and moronic, yes, I know!
There was the running around and screaming in shops. There were tantrums. There was hiding in the clothes racks. But they kept on finding me!
There was the pushed to the point where I said to Monkey Boy “Keep speaking like that and I’ll smack you on the arse!”
To which he replied “You said a bad word. And, anyway, its “ass” not “arse”.”
This, inevitably, led to a conversation about the merits of the English language and how Americanisms are not something we use in our house, so “Anyway, I’m right and your wrong.”
And the little shit came back at me with exactly the same sentence.
So I made him sit on the stairs when we came home. Becuase I have not yet learnt that sitting on the stairs does not actually mean no bad behaviour. So I threatened the “no dinner” if you continue to behave like that.
Its not my fault that it just happened to be his favourite. It was a coincidence. Really!
He wrote me a note while he was sitting on the stairs (I have yet to work out how he got the paper and textas without actually leaving the stairs). Grumpy had a word to him. He came and handed me a note that said “Your Deab Mum”.
(I think he meant “You’re Dead Mum” but I chose to overlook this appalling spelling and gramatical errors at this stage)
Grumpy had very gently suggested that giving me a note at that point in time – pissed off, holding big, sharp knife – was probably not a good idea. So he crossed out “Mum” and replaced it with “Dad”. That was nice.
So he ended up in bed with a vegemite sandwich and a glass of water. Which is the point I became the Worst Mum In The World.
I have yet to receive my trophy and certificate.