in my house

dear playdate person who seems to have mysteriously landed here friend,

welcome to our home. we’re very glad you’re here! please enjoy your time with my child. let me tell you a little bit about what i expect, conduct-wise, when you’re in my house.

i am honestly delighted to provide you with a snack or lunch or whatever foodstuffs i might have on hand. please let me know whether you have any food allergies; i don’t have an epi-pen handy and would prefer the playdate not end in the ER.

also, regarding food, i have been teaching my eldest child that when she is a guest, she can indicate preference for food if her host gives her a specific choice; however, she is not to turn up her nose at things but try them unless they are pork or foods she knows she cannot have because she’s a red sea pedestrian. (i’m quite proud of the way she actually ate a sandwich on whole wheat bread the other day at a playdate and didn’t say boo about the bread. that’s one major leap for parentkind.)

how nice it is that your parents will make you a completely different meal if you don’t like what they’ve made for dinner. that rule, unfortunately, does not apply in my house. please, if you don’t like something, simply say no thank you. diatribes about how nasty a food is are not necessary. further, i’m sorry if you don’t like the brand of frozen pizza, peanut butter, or what have you. if it is unsuitable, i suggest you eat before you arrive.

you may not go upstairs and play in my room. that’s my room. i’m the mom, and i say so.

the vents come out of the floor. i don’t know why. that doesn’t mean you ought to pull them out. they actually are somewhat functional and probably aren’t appropriate for use as a child’s toy.

that pinball machine? it’s a vintage 1980s piece of our family history. my husband, BS, looked for three years until he found it and bought it. he carefully had it shipped first to the airport and then to our home, where it was put together. is it a little crazy to have a 20 year old pinball machine in your home? perhaps. but it is the same game we played when we were dating back when dinosaurs roamed the earth, and it is probably among the top five of the most romantic gestures my BS has ever made for me. hence, while i don’t mind when you and my child play the game, i would appreciate it if you did not angrily bang the glass each and every time your turn ends.

do not act mean to my younger child. while he is a major bruiser and is known in these parts as hellboy, he is still nearly 5 years younger than you are and doesn’t take kindly to insults. as he is a boy of a certain age, he also may resort to physical expressions of his displeasure. and, if i know he has been provoked, i will of course attempt to stop him from such expressions, as i know he can probably hurt you a lot worse than you can him. and i will make a mental note.

despite the fact that casa de wreke usually looks like a bomb hit it, do not be fooled into thinking that the floor is a proper receptacle for trash.

i love loved the pretty tulips. the ones you just trampled. is it customary to step on garden flowers in your own yard? please do not step on them in mine.

i truly enjoyed your explanation of how you get your way in your own home. it was especially entertaining to hear how you have taught your sibling your technique. i would humbly suggest that when that child is a little older, he/she will respond as hellboy would: he/she will whack you. worse, he/she will use it on you. just so you know.

i know you think i’m a mean, hardass mother. please be aware that i expect the same behavior and deportment from my own children. i really do like you, you know. but just as i am teaching my own children how to behave when they are guests in others’ homes, i am expecting that your parents have been doing the same. alas, to paraphrase something my BS often reminds me about others, i cannot expect that everyone in the world has been raised by me. (more’s the pity.) so don’t be alarmed if i gently remind you of our home rules as the situation arises. i am treating you, in essence, as i treat my own.

yours,

wreke

p.s. you’re not sleeping over.

Advertisements

11 Responses to “in my house”

  1. ?!! Wow. Just … wow. I would be so mortified if my kids acted that way. (And I realize by just writing that, just now, I have guaranteed that it’ll happen.)

  2. Oh man. I loathe little sh!ts. What a nightmare! How did you not just toss this kid out in the yard to wait for his parents? Oh, wait, you did, hence the trampled tulips. ::seething::

  3. Thank God that has never happened to us. For the most part, our kids friends are our friends kids, so it is usually not an issue. I dont know what I would do if this happened to us.

  4. it’s a combo of several people, so not just one child. thank goodness.

    i really, really like my kids’ friends, so i just experience frustration from time to time. and i suspect my kids aren’t perfect when they are guests; so i try really hard to imagine it is my child doing whatever is being done, take a deep breath, and gently guide him/her.

  5. snort! nice vent, still laughing or cringing or something like that.

  6. OMG, I can’t believe you tolerated that crap. I’d have been on the horn to the kid’s parents after the 1st offense!

  7. notdancingqueen Says:

    Bravo, Wreke, Bravo. That has just become my FAVORITE.Wreke-Post. Ever.

    And that’s saying something!

    Now go read today’s entry at Mamma Mia, where I pay homage to — among others – Mista James.

  8. Ha! Funny you should blog this. I snarled at the UN’s little friend (and the UN) this evening when they started throwing little balls of playdoh around and then ran away giggling when I asked them to clean it up. Pass the Mean Hardass Mommy crown to me, I think it’s my turn!

  9. This is PRICELESS!! I needed this printed to read to a little Witch that used to come to our house! How right you are about some people’s evil children!! Some kids have real nerve…sad to say, no manners either.
    Thanks for the good time!

  10. […] 29, 2008 by notdancingqueen Who can’t relate to this?  Another fabulous essay by My Friend […]

  11. I am so there. Thank you for letting me know that you’re just like me (muahaha).

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: