A parent who is not me more than likely once said ’tis important to raise children who will stand up in the face of peer pressure. Me? I say abuse the shit out of peer pressure. Make peer pressure your parenting bitch. Suck dry that sweet, sweet teet that is your child’s innate desire to conform to social norms. At least in the short-term you won’t be sorry.
A few weeks ago Boogie woke up and decided she would become a cliche, embodying all of those fabulous habits and personality quirks that traditionally characterize a tiny person’s second year of life. And, as a result, I could probably put the promoters who have had to address Beyonce’s tour riders to shame with all of the outlandish demands I’ve met and accommodations I’ve been making lately. Though she has been devilishly clever enough to make me fall desperately in love with her, in turn successfully preventing me from throwing her in the Goodwill donation box alongside that hideous, mistake of a lamp I just *had* to have a few years ago.
But, my friends, I have discovered a light at the end of the Parenting-a-two-year-old-without-mainlining-vodka tunnel. And that light is peer pressure.
Need to combat the subliminal message they pump through the grocery store alerting your child that it is now time to act like a complete lunatic? Peer Pressure. Need to get your kid to stop pooping in their drawers and start using a toilet like the rest of the civilized world? Peer Pressure. Tired of snickering behind your child’s back when they attempt to jump, and need to coax them into actually picking their feet up off the floor instead of simply grunting and bending their knees? Peer Pressure.
So far it has worked in my favor, though lord knows how I am going to manage the cliff jumping analogy when trying to talk her out of going with her friends to get a tattoo of my face with “Word to Your Motha” underneath it.
outtie like a pregnant lady’s belly button,
