Why do our kids have to be born with our genes? I could stand the flaws and faults of anyone else’s little demons on a daily basis. I could love my kids unconditionally day-in and day-out of their shit didn’t stink in exactly the same way as mine.
I was late getting my daughter to the bus stop this morning. Which means I had to drive her instead of making her tough it up and walk like usual. My tires squealed as I pulled out of the driveway, knowing I had about two minutes max to make the 30-second drive in the snow.
When we finally got there – 30 fucking hours later – the bus was already looming, Teasing us and laughing heartily. These idiots never plan ahead. They’re the reason the U.S. school system is eternally fucked. I think I’ll pull in the stop sign just to teach ’em a lesson.
The bus pulls up on the left corner of my side of the street. It would’ve been easy to pull right up and let my daughter right on if it weren’t for all the other lazy-ass parents hanging out by the curb to make sure their special little princes and princesses stayed on the bus until it was out of their sights. Wusses.
As it was, I worked the snow like Jane Bond and skidded a U-y across the middle of the street, sliding perfectly up to the curb on the other side between two Escalades (it’s not my fault I didn’t have time to document the event on camera; it happened).
I timed it perfectly: the last kid was mounting the steps and we had approximately 30 seconds for my daughter to unbuckle, exit the car, and bust ass to the bus. My calculations had her arriving right as the doors closed, allowing a fraction of a second for her to slip her hand between the doors Mission:Impossible-style and stop the A-bombs from deploying.
“Let’s go, chicka, make this shit happen.” Spoken like a true heroin to her Second. And what did she do?
Actually, that’s not true. She started crying and screaming. “I can’t! I’ll never make it!”
What the fuck kind of child did I raise? Did I not sit her in front of enough action films? Was she not paying attention during Ash vs Evil Dead? When the stakes are high you bust ass. Yet here she was acting like some kind of suburban golden child. As if I hadn’t spent the past 7 years giving her everything she wanted in hopes that she’d know how to step up and suffer when the right moment came.
I finally got my ass out of the car and pulled her out myself, throwing my body in front of the bus to save the day. Executed like an emotionless sociopath raised in the KKK capital of Northern Idaho.
There’s no logic to her response whatsoever. It’s like she has no survival instincts. And yet I remember similar moments in my life like they were yesterday. I mean, when 7-year-old Jane was in the exact same situation, crying and throwing a tantrum seemed perfectly logical. Why the fuck would I bust my ass to get to the bus when clearly all odds were against me? Take a chance and make a run for it like all the other kids who consequently make it to the bus just in time? Pshah. Much better idea to obliterate all opportunity for success and pout in the backseat instead. I already got an extra ten minutes of cartoons that morning; no need to ruin my productivity by getting somewhere on time.
I hate that I have those memories and I hate even more that I have to watch my daughter relive them. I could deal with almost any other weakness she might have; Inaction is probably the worst and most hainous. Why couldn’t she be one of those kids that steals shit from my purse or tortures animals for fun? At least then I’d be entitled to be pissed off every time she manifests some behavior I claim I’ve “never been so spoiled as to fall victim to”.
I’m starting to think Gattica had the right idea. Let’s just remove all of our bullshit problems from our kids’ genetic makeup. I mean, who decided that shit needed to be passed on in the first place?
Oh yeah, Mother Nature.