The Parent Translator

Photo by Emma Bauso on Pexels.com

Parents talking to children:

“Did you say thank you?”
You forgot to say thank you, yet again.

“Do you need a tissue?”
Get your finger out of your nose.

“Good job!”
So what.

“I bet you can’t remember how to brush your teeth.”
Brush your goddamn teeth.

“Please.”
That’s an order.

“Sharing is caring.”
Quit being an asshole.

“Oh, really?”
No shit.

“That’s amazing!”
That’s obvious.

“Wow!”
Yawn.

“I want you to be independent.”
I want you to do whatever I say.

“Because that’s just how it works.”
I don’t know.

“Because I said so.”
Because I’m the highest-ranking official in your life. 

“Knock it off.”
I am about to lose my shit in such a fashion that you will no longer recognize me as a human being.

“Shoot!”
Shit!

Parents talking to other adults:

“Sorry we’re late.”
I can hardly believe we ever managed to get out of the house.

“He’s a picky eater.”
This child subsists on a diet of mac & cheese.

“She had a slight fever.”
I was in 24-hour state of panic re brain damage and death.

“We had a long day.”
I was out in public all day with this tiny, screaming, flailing madman by my side.

“We have four kids.”
We are certifiably insane.

“She was a little colicky as a baby.”
My heart was ripped out of my body via my ear canal.

“He’s tired.”
I don’t have a good excuse for how rude my child is.

“He’s a high-energy kid.”
I’m fucked. 

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