Starts With B, Rhymes With Witch

Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.

What do you get when one and three go to war? Lot’s of flying fists, hurt feelings and exhausted referees.
 

Into every new year a little profanity must fall and who better to give it to you than Il Duce? The shock value of naughty words spilling forth from tiny lips never lessens, but  even I drew a sharp breath upon hearing his newly acquired profane utterance. 

If you want an extreme reaction, make sure to call me a bitch. 

If you want to make me cry watch my five-year old learn and use that word. 

Number one and number three are forces of nature that suck the air out of every room they enter creating a vacuum that few escape. Sandwiched between these two is my gentle sweet heart who has learned to weather the storm and keep his head down. 

Powerful personalities battle it out over Tokyo

Today I listened to all three call each other that word and waited for the piss poor parenting paddy wagon to pull up and cart me off. 

Good work mom. 

One too many viewings of the housewives of whatever county happen to be on and the word became legend over here where potty mouth is far too prevalent and three bars of lye soap are in demand now. 

Little assholes.

A Trip Through Your Wires

Please turn out normal, please turn out normal.

Sit down, shut up, sit still, stop fidgeting, we will stop the class if you continue making that noise.

We are going to spend so much time and energy trying to break and tame you that we will be too exhausted to take a real look at what you have to offer.

Welcome to the machine.

It’s a big angry monster that takes kids in and molds them and then spits them out ready to take on the menial tasks of everyday life with all the fun, joy and physicality wrung out of them.

Take this pill, it will make you big/small/calm/quiet/ easier to stomach/ invisible.

This one will make you far more palatable for us and this one will take the edge off and deaden those senses a bit just in case you were thinking of making some mischief.

What a waste of that big brain . Why can’t you calm down and show us what you can do?

Let’s rewire you.

OT,PT, behaviorist, shadows, non stop meetings and endless communication with parents. More pills.

Good bye playground hello hard wooden chair and desk.

 Stop daydreaming. What’s so interesting outside that window that you can’t keep your eyes on me?

No I don’t see any figures in those clouds, and neither should you.

This will go down on your permanent record.

You are defective, disruptive and rude.

We cannot deal with you so you must leave.

You can take your pills and shove them up your unimaginative ass.

You can take your hours of mindless worksheets and let the robots fill them out.

You couldn’t interest me less in my permanent record as my paper trail was already a mile long by the time I was three.

Put the quiet twenty-minute circle time feather in your pipe and smoke it.

I may have some issues (hey, who doesn’t?) but they will shake out after some hard work and time.

When I have destroyed  nations and taken over the world I’ll be sure to look you up so I can thank you for not listening to me.

We can walk down memory lane and talk about the trips to the office and the time outs and the fake concern.
Then I’ll blow up your house put you in jail and fulfill every prediction you had for me when I was just small and helpless and wondering how to feel about myself.

Just kidding. I’ll show you that I turned out just fine. My parents worried themselves into an early grave but things are just smashing in my neck of the woods.