“Why do you have go to work?”
“Why you not rich?”
“Why do you have bills?”
“What is a mortgage?”
“Why can’t we have ice cream for dinner?”
“Why can’t we have candy for breakfast?”
“Why are you tired?”
[On daylight savings] “Hey, why is it dark out?”
“Why daylight savings?”
[On traffic] “Is it our turn yet?”
“Why are idiots not moving?”
“Why I have to clean up?”
“Why always doing laundry?”
“Why?”
There will come a time when you, as a progressive millennial parent, will find it necessary to send your toddler to stay one or more nights with your conservative parents or in-laws. This need arose perhaps because you have a wedding to attend or need a weekend getaway with your spouse. Perhaps you are traveling to a protest in an attempt to smash the patriarchy, or attending an essential oils seminar.
Whatever the reason, an important question must be answered: Aside from the necessities, what do you pack? How can you best innoculate and protect your child against regressive policies, ideological bias, and fascism?
Fear not, millennial parent. This extensive packing list will have your child prepared and well-taken care of during their adventure with the grandparents.
Clothes
Choose clothes that are gender-neutral in color so as to avoid their grandparents forcing them to conform to traditional gender roles. As you know, your child may not have chosen their preferred gender yet. Consider labeling the clothes with your child’s preferred pronouns, or the appropriate gender-neutral pronouns.
Children’s Books
Creative Tools
Toys
Important Reminder: A treat every now and then never hurt anyone. Remember to give your child cookies, candy, and/or ice cream immediately (organic, dairy-free, and gluten-free, of course) before drop off so that they are guaranteed to be buzzing right through naptime.
Bonus: This list is the perfect passive-aggressive response to the Trump-Pence 2020 sign in your parents’ yard or the time your mother-in-law reminded everyone last Thanksgiving that “ALL lives matter.” It will have your conservative family members running to a safe space as soon as you pick up your child.
Dinnertime has always been my favorite time of the day. It’s a time to sit down with your family after working hard, and a time for enjoying each others’ company over a home-cooked meal. Creating a delicious meal can be difficult during the week, however. This is especially so when you are the parent of a toddler. Any parent knows they are notoriously picky eaters.
Picky eaters are my specialty. When I first met my wife in college, she would eat hardly anything aside from plain hamburgers, pizza (pepperoni only), and chicken tenders. Through seventeen years of dedication and hard work, she will now also eat pasta. With red sauce only, though.
When my son began to eat solid foods, I applied what I had learned over the last seventeen years to his diet. I resolved that I would not raise a picky eater, and instead would raise a child that enjoyed culinary adventure and diversity. But, the time during a weeknight is limited and it was important to create healthy recipes that were quick. This is one of those recipes. It may seem long by the number of steps, but I assure you it’s easy and the more you make it you may even be able to skip a few steps. Bon appetite.
1. It is time to wake up in the morning. Do not judge your toddler, as you were just complaining about having to wake up ten minutes ago when you violently hit your alarm.
2. It is time to get dressed. Let’s just agree that this is reasonable; pants are the worst.
3. It is time to go to daycare. How horrible it would be to be fed free snacks, color, play outside, and take a nap at your “job.”
4. It is time to be picked up from daycare. At some point during the day, a decision was made that the place is not horrible. You cannot say the same for your office.
5. It is dinner time. How dare you put anything but candy, cookies, or ice cream on that plate!
6. It is TV time. Why does The Land Before Time have to end? In 2019, there must be a way to play it on one continuous uninterrupted loop forever.
7. It is bath time. “No bath!”
8. It is time to get out of the bath. “Five more minutes!” Splash. Splash. Splash.
9. It is story time. Why have you only read six children’s books instead of the entire children’s section of the home library? What does it “being May” have to do with reading How The Grinch Stole Christmas?
10. It is bed time. “No night night!”
The task at hand filled me with dread. Although most would consider it a simple shopping errand, I knew it would require all of my energy. I needed to go to Bass Pro Shops and procure a small list of items for an upcoming fishing excursion.
A friend who was going on the trip provided the list since he actually knows how to fish.
This would tax my mental faculties. What exactly is a jig as it pertains to fishing?I thought. Surely one does not catch fish using a lively dance routine.
Of course, the list and getting the items was not the arduous part. Rather, my two-year-old son was in tow as my wife was busy spending our life savings at a yarn store sale. As soon as we entered the store, he immediately yelled “I SEE FISH!” and started running as fast as his small legs could carry him.
For those of you who have never been to a Bass Pro Shops, it is a fairly unique type of big box store. For one, the entryway is carefully decorated to look like a rustic hunting lodge. If you are dressed normally and not in something camouflage, hunters’ orange, or some sort of XXL fashion faux pas, you will feel immediately out of place. Then, one must pass through a seemingly useless turn style that does not take tokens, Metro Cards, or even keep count of anything as far as I can discern. What it does do, however, is allow a speeding toddler to gain a further lead after he ducks under the turn style while you struggle to squeeze through.
Arriving at the massive aquarium in the back of the store, my son stood before the glass in awe as catfish and other fish his size swam back and forth gracefully. It was cute to watch – for about five minutes. Then, it was time to go and buy plastic shrimp and “jigs” to catch fish.
“Let’s go over here,” I whispered in my son’s ear.
“No.”
“It will only take a minute. Dada’s got to get some things and then we can come back.”
“No! My want to look at fish!” he screamed. I stopped my entreaties. I knew from experience that if I tried to reason and cajole him to coming with me any more, it would cause a tantrum. In his two short years on Earth, my son has mastered the skills of throwing an epic public tantrum sure to bring about embarrassment and judgment from all those in the store.
The fishing section of the store was perhaps fifty feet from where we stood. I noticed a selection of rather large pole nets stocked and thought briefly about running over and grabbing one, scooping up my son, and carrying him throughout the store. Surely if the nets are designed to handle writhing fish scooped out of the water, they could handle a two-year-old having a meltdown.
I took a few steps toward the nets and stopped myself. Would this be effective? Possibly. Would I have to explain to my wife later why there was a viral video of me on social media carrying our son in a fishing net and talking to Child Protective Services? Probably. The risks outweighed the benefits.
I watched my son watching the fish for a few more minutes and then I had a stroke of genius. What was I in the store to do? I was in the store to prepare for a fishing trip. I may as well practice catching “the big one” before the trip in addition to purchasing the necessary gear.
I pulled out my iPhone and opened the Emergency Tantrum Relief and Toddler Pacification app. Most of you know this as “Netflix.” Within seconds, I had Cars3loaded and ready to go. The hook was baited.
“Hey,” I called to my son. “Do you want to watch Cars?” The line was cast.
“Yeah!” my son said. Caught him.
I pushed play. My son’s concentration with the aquarium was broken and he began walking over toward me while Cars 3began. As I reeled him in closer, I turned my back to him and rested the phone against the small of my back with its screen facing my son.
I began walking away and my son followed, now transfixed by my phone’s screen. As we got further way I turned to make sure he was still following me and noticed at least two other children who were around the aquarium starting to drift away toward Cars 3.I had turned into some sort of twenty first century Pied Piper. I momentarily turned the screen away from the children and shot the ones who were not mine a look that said, “Back off.” My child was annoyed and said, “Hey! My watch Cars!”
During our journey through the store, I noticed sales associates and store patrons staring at me. Although most of their looks seemed judgmental on the outside, I knew on the inside they were likely extremely jealous of my ingenuity and its effectiveness. Eventually, I arrived at the cash register with my son in tow and still focused on Cars.
I laid my plastic shrimp and the fancy hooks with a little metal fish heads on them (that’s a jig, apparently) upon the counter and was satisfied that our chore was accomplished. The cashier then told me my total and my satisfaction dissipated as I realized I spent more on the (slim) possibility of catching a fish than if I had just bought one at the supermarket.
At least I got out of here without my son causing me embarrassment, I thought.
“Hey,” my son said looking up at the cashier. “My pooped.”
Never mind.
How did we get here? The defendant was outside on a beautiful spring Saturday morning. The sun was shining. The birds were chirping. The defendant was riding his balance bike, and I was loosely supervising him while scrolling Twitter.
After approximately two hours, I told the defendant, as his parent, it was time to go inside to get changed. He objected. “It will only take five minutes,” I said. “No,” was his reply.
Many of you have had occasion to deal with two year olds. I need not tell you what it is like. I tried to reason. I tried to bargain – candy was offered – but there was no persuading him.
I switched tactics and I confronted the defendant bluntly. “You need to be changed,” I said. He smiled and giggled. “No poop in there,” he claimed.
Again, I provided the defendant with a lawful command to go inside and get changed. “No get me,” he laughed and ran across the yard.
I gave chase. Try as he might, his short chubby legs were no match for mine and I was able to quickly apprehend him.
While I picked him up, what did the defendant do? Did he go willingly? No, he did not. He stopped giggling and began wailing loudly in my ear. “No!” he screamed. “No poop in there!” he screamed again. My eardrums nearly burst.
Then the kicking began. The defendant began pumping his little legs back and forth wildly while I held him out and tried to deflect the blows. Try as I might to restrain the wriggling defendant, he resisted.
And then it happened. He kicked me in the testicles. I nearly dropped him as I doubled over in pain.
As you know, the accused is on trial today for charges of perjury, resisting arrest, and assault. He would have you acquit and absolve him of any responsibility for his heinous crimes. But, I am confident you won’t be fooled by his charming smile and assertions.
The essence of his defense is, “No poop in there.” Since the defendant claims he had not soiled himself, he contends my orders and attempts to restrain him were unlawful. That he didn’t need to listen. That it was an accident when he kicked me. I submit to you the defendant is lying.
Let’s review the evidence:
First, I observed him clearly running his hand along the backside of his pants. In addition, whenever he did so he had a knowing expression on his face – a look that said, “There’s poop in there.”
Second, there was the sag. The seat of his pants was clearly hanging lower than it was a few hours before. A tell tale sign of poop in there.
Third, and most damning, was the stench. One could smell that kid from the next yard over. Even the dog was steering clear of the kid, and it sniffs other dogs’ butts to say hello.
This is all circumstantial evidence, of course. But the law makes no distinction between direct and circumstantial evidence. There is only one conclusion that can be drawn from the evidence, ladies and gentlemen: There was poop in there.
It is easy to feel sympathy for the defendant and allow that sympathy to cloud your judgment. It is easy to believe his lies of “no poop in there” when looking at that cherub-like face, those blue eyes, and that blonde hair. It may seem harsh to find the defendant guilty when you consider the punishment – no TV for the day and no ice cream tonight – but it’s a necessary punishment. It’s necessary to hold the defendant accountable for his actions in order to deter this type of behavior in the future.
I am confident that you will all agree the evidence shows only one reasonable verdict: guilty on all counts.
Thank you, ladies and gentlemen of the jury.
Listen to me. This is important. The Avengers had at least four opportunities to save trillions of lives and they failed. Do you know why? Do you?
It’s because they couldn’t control their emotions. Mainly Quill, actually. Let’s review.
Opportunity Number One: Gamora was the only person who knew the location of the Soul Stone. This is one of the six Infinity Stones Thanos needs to collect. Gamora made Quill promise to kill her if Thanos came for her, so Thanos could not learn the location of the stone. What did Quill do when Thanos came for Gamora? He wimped out because of love, that’s what.
Opportunity Number Two: Captured by Thanos because of Quill and his emotions, Gamora surrendered the location of the Soul Stone to Thanos in order to save her sister, Nebula, from suffering. A sister she fought with constantly in previous movies, by the way. Stupid.
Opportunity Number Three: Spiderman and Ironman nearly removed the gauntlet from Thanos’s arm as part of a very carefully orchestrated plan on planet Titan. This plan relied on teamwork. All of the Avengers present had a role to play, and needed to stay focused. But what happened? Quill happened. Again. He found out Thanos killed Gamora, and despite Ironman sagely telling him to cool it and not engage, Quill went and punched Thanos. This broke Mantis’s hypnotic hold over Thanos. Thanos subsequently regained his gauntlet, and then the Time Stone. Quill is the most worthless Guardian of the Galaxy.
Opportunity Number Four: There was ten seconds left on the clock and the team was down by one point. Thanos had all the Infinity Stones and was about to carry out his plan to wipe out half of the galaxy. It was time for a Hail Mary play. Enter Thor, the most photogenic of all Avengers. Swooping in from the sky like the God of Thunder he his, he hurled his axe into Thanos’s chest. And then Thor opened his big stupid mouth. You see, earlier Thor growled at Thanos, “You’re going to die for that,” after Thanos plunged a weapon into Heimdall’s chest and killed him. So later on Wakanda, ignoring the goal of mission, Thor decided to gloat and have his vengeance. “I told you, you’d die for that,” he told Thanos triumphantly. But Thor was not triumphant because there was still time for Thanos to snap his fingers. “You should’ve gone for the head,” Thanos wisely taunted as Thor screwed up the Hail Mary with his emotions of grief for Heimdall and thirst for vengeance. Seconds later, half of literally everyone turned into dust and flittered away.
We, the audience, were left despondent and speechless. Perhaps worse, we had to wait an entire year, spend more money, and spend half a day in a theater to see what happens next. All of this because “grown up” so-called “heroes” couldn’t control their emotions!
Let’s back up slightly. What did Thanos do when he learned from Red Skull he must sacrifice Gamora to obtain the Soul Stone? Did he fail because of his feelings for Gamora? No. Thanos sucked it up, drug Gamora to the edge of the cliff, and hurled her to her death. Mission accomplished!
Whose fault was the disintegration of trillions of people? Was it Thanos? Or, was it Quill and Thor because they couldn’t bottle up their emotions and shove them deep, deep down inside like even the most average maladjusted man? I think we know the answer. “Heroes” my ass.
So, here we are at the end of this line of twenty people at the ice cream place, and you’re impatiently wailing “MY WANT ICE CREAM!” over and over. I’m sorry, but we have to wait. We have to be patient and committed to getting the ice cream. Like Thanos was to his plan.
People are staring and silently judging your dada. So, I’m going to count to five. By the time I reach five, if you haven’t stopped having this tantrum, I’m going to snap my fingers and we’re going to go home and not have any ice cream tonight. That means you’ll have four opportunities, just like the Avengers, where you can stop me and accomplish your mission. Ask yourself son: are you going to be like Thanos and get your emotions in check, or are you going to fail like the Avengers?
