A Swinging-Good Time

I know it’s been a while and maybe one day I’ll explain…but for now, just enjoy this post.

So, my lovely, generous, kind husband – a companion to all humans and animals alike – decided to tie a rope-swing to the tree right outside of our front door. Such a wonderful idea! We had rope-swings when we were kids: simple fun, simple pleasure. Only one tiny, little problem comes with such simple fun: it attract kids. Specifically, other people's kids, who are…ummnn….annoying.

Now, I don’t know how much you guys know about me but I’m pretty sure some of you know I am not a huge fan of children. Yes, I know I CHOSE a career where I am required to work with children and I CHOSE to have a child and I CHOOSE to have my daughter’s friends over, but believe me when I say I do not like other people's kids.

(Side note: I love my friends’ kids and I love Hannah’s friends and I love my work kids)

If I get to know a kid, I will most likely like him/her but I have very little desire to make the first move. I can’t explain it. My kind and loving husband gets along with all children; I've come to the conclusion he’s not normal. Somewhere in his brain is a chemical imbalance; he should be medicated.

Additionally, I've come to the realization I also need to be medicated because every time I come home from work there are about 5 kids swinging on that stupid rope-swing. They are loud, they are obnoxious, and they are disheveled. Why does that bother me so much? I just don’t like sloppy. Oh, and they leave trash. Everywhere. Oh, and they ask my child to come play with them, even though it’s time for dinner, and even though she isn’t old enough to play on her own, and even though they should have no interest in playing with her because she is about 3 years younger than the youngest kid in the group.

So every day when I pull up to the house, I have to battle with my child to get her inside. This is us every day:

She: “Mama, the girls are here! Can I go play?”

Me (under my breath): “Shit.” Silence.

Me: “Not right now, Honey; we have to eat dinner first.” Even though dinner is in an hour.

She: “But, theeeeeey areeeee not eaaaaating dinnnnnnnner!” Worst combination of words, ever!

Me: “I don’t care what they are doing; you are going inside to eat dinner.”

She: “Waaaahhhhahaahhaha!” Someone put me out of my misery.

Me: “If you don’t stop whining you are not going to go outside ever again.” Yes, I know I shouldn’t make unrealistic threats. Judge me for my dislike of children, not for my parenting.

She: “Waaaahhh…..ok. Can I go outside after dinner?”

Me: “If Papa wants to take you.” Haha! Sweet revenge. If he wants to put up rope-swings around the neighborhood, he is going to have to deal with listening to kids squeal and fight over whose turn it is.

She: “Okay.”

I hate that rope-swing.