nanny 911
Oooooooooooohhh, I finally heard my upstairs woman scream at her obnoxiously bratty three year old. Well it's about time. That kid's a terror and I've been waiting to hear something wafting down here a little sharper than the soothing murmer of over-educated, liberal parents whimpering out their well-reasoned disciplinary suggestions.
But, as much as I've longed to go up there myself to jerk that little monster out of one of his tantrums (my mom's favorite thing to yell at us when she was annoyed was "I'll jerk a knot in you!" -- still not sure what that would actually look like...), I couldn't help feel a little PTSD just now when she shrieked "GOD DAMMIT GET BACK IN YOUR CHAIR!" Yikes. Poor kid. He better do what she says.
But, as much as I've longed to go up there myself to jerk that little monster out of one of his tantrums (my mom's favorite thing to yell at us when she was annoyed was "I'll jerk a knot in you!" -- still not sure what that would actually look like...), I couldn't help feel a little PTSD just now when she shrieked "GOD DAMMIT GET BACK IN YOUR CHAIR!" Yikes. Poor kid. He better do what she says.
posted by reasonably prudent poet at 1:47 PM
1 Comments:
Gotta love that consistency. Either all soft and no power, or hammering at the kid. Sheesh. Just the sort of thing I was writing about it in my paper.
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