I’ve heard so many parents say shit like, “My kid is going to be the next President of the United States of America.”
Good for them. I wish them the best.
But, so help me God, if any of my kids ever become President, I’m packing my shit and moving to a fucking treehouse, somewhere in an isolated island forest. I’ll wear a loincloth, and forage around for bugs and tree roots and stuff to eat. I’ll make friends with the other tree dwellers. Like sloths. I think they live in trees. Or birds. I know those guys live in trees. But I will not live anywhere that my children are in charge of. Period.
I love my kids dearly, but after observing them in their natural states (pure, non stop lunacy) for the past few years, I clearly understand that if any one of them were to become President, it would mark the end of the civilized world as we know it.
Don’t get me wrong here. I’m not saying that I don’t support these lovely little masters of mayhem. Or that I don’t think that they’ll be successful when they grow up. Heck, I truly and honestly DO believe that they’ll be successful. That’s why I’m getting my contingency plan together now, in the event that one of them does eventually wind up the leader of the free world.
I know that some parents (probably the ones that make cutesy little characters out of celery sticks and kumquats*) are gonna gasp and be like, “OMG! I can’t believe that he’s saying this about his children! I believe that children are our future!” And to that I say, calm down, Whitney. Behind those cute little faces, my kids are harbingers of destruction.
Now, regarding the Presidency, I’m not too concerned with them screwing up the economy. Even though they’re all horrible with money, thinking they can buy 17 toys, 93 candy bars, 4 packs of gum, and a Lunchable…all with one dollar each, I really don’t think they’d do any worse than any of our recent Presidents.
My concern is war.
You’ve all heard of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, right? You’ve got War, Famine, Pestilence, and Miley Cyrus. Each of the Horsemen is portrayed as a cloaked, reaper looking thing…except for Miley. She’s just baked out of her mind, naked, and wagging her disgusting tongue around. She’s also the only Horseman not actually riding a horse. The horse took one look at her and ran away.
Anyway, now imagine three little cloaked reaper thingys, all pushing, shoving, pinching, and trying to hit each other in the head with their scythes.
That’s my kids.
Horseman of the Apocalypse style.
Although they’re all fighting to get on the same horse. The War horse.
It’s completely evident, based on how these minions of menace act on a daily basis that they’d waste no time waging war. And pillaging, plundering, and forcibly taking souvenirs from anyone or anything they could.
Even at a young age, they’ve shown an exceptional talent for such deeds. Case in point, this evening, Raylan (3) decides he’s gonna make a fort, which we’ll call Ft. Crybaby. He rearranges some stuff, makes a wall out of a bedsheet, brings some toys in, and is quite proud of his little achievement. Tommy (7) sees this and immediately feels the need to make an even bigger fort, which we’ll call Ft. Instigator. Then, while Raylan is oblivious, peacefully hanging out inside Ft. Crybaby, Tommy snatches up a bunch of Raylan’s toys and brings them into Ft. Instigator. But not before he plants one of their sister’s dolls inside Ft. Crybaby.
Meanwhile, a Dark and Ominous Cloud is rolling over the land, in the form of my little princess Emma (5), who has just noticed that the boys have created something that she doesn’t have. The Dark and Ominous Cloud rapidly goes back and forth between Ft. Crybaby and Ft. Instigator, giving everybody around the evil eye, but not actually saying or doing anything. This is the calm before the storm.
Not a good sign.
It’s around this time, that the Household Security Commission (me) notices what’s going on, and immediately places the household on Defcon 4. Defcon 4 is one of the highest Defcons in the Defcon family, that we use in the Daddy Anarchy household. This level of Defcon usually consists of the HSC (Household Security Commission…duh.) quickly picking up anything that can be broken, tripped over, or otherwise used as a weapon.
And then it happens.
The war begins.
The Dark and Ominous Cloud, while rolling across the land, noticed something pink inside Ft. Crybaby. Her doll. This was all that The Dark and Ominous Cloud needed to launch a full scale attack.
The attack on Ft. Crybaby consisted of The Dark and Ominous Cloud breaching the fort’s walls and quickly gathering up as much stuff in her arms, while shouting her battle cry of “MINE! MINE! MINE!” Then running away from the fort, knocking down it’s blanketed walls.
Raylan immediately starts screaming, but is unable to defend Ft. Crybaby due to being wrapped up in the bedsheet walls.
Hearing the screaming from safely inside Ft. Instigator, Tommy starts laughing. In that annoyingly exaggerated, loud ass laugh that kids do when they want somebody three states away to hear them.
This doesn’t bode well for him.
Not knowing whether Tommy is laughing at her or not, The Dark and Ominous Cloud charges Ft. Instigator at full-on warhorse speed. And punches Tommy right in his nose. She then proceeds to trash Ft. Instigator, by kicking everything, including Tommy…who’s still holding his nose from being punched.
Due to the turmoil of this war, the HSC takes action to bring the warring parties to a peace treaty by utilizing the following tactics: Yelling.
HSC: WILL YOU GUYS PUH-LEEZE SHUT UP AND STOP THE FIGHTING!!!!!
Raylan: (finally out from the fallen bedsheets of Ft. Crybaby) Bu…bu…but….Tommy and then the Emma did the thing that got my thingy with the sheet on da floor a da house in da room…MYA FORTA!!!!!
Tommy: (still holding his nose) Bud dabby. Ebba ib a derk! She cubbed ibdoo my ford ab broke ib!! I worked berry berry harb ob my ford!
I look over at The Dark and Ominous Cloud, who seems to have transformed into a Smiling Ray of Sunshine…
HSC: Em? Why did you mess up your brother’s forts?
Smiling Ray of Sunshine: (batting her little eyelashes) I didn’t.
Tommy: LIE-BER!!! DABBY! SHEEBS LIBING!!!
HSC: Now, Tommy…calm do…
Smiling Ray of Sunshine: ASSHOLE! Daaaa-deeeee! Tommy’s a stoopit liar and a asshole!
Raylan: AZZZ HO!! AZZZ HO!! AZZZ HO!!!
Tommy: DABBY! IBE NOBBA ABB HO!!!
HSC: GUYS!!! STOP!!! AND NO MORE SWEARING!!!!
*three sets of angry little eyes looking up at me*
*like tiny, mean racoons*
HSC: Ok. Listen. Daddy’s had it with the fighting. You guys love each other! You need to be on each other’s sides. Why don’t you all work together and build one really big fort? That would be so cool! With a big fort, you guys could all hang out in there and play together.
Believe it or not, this is actually met with smiles and nodding heads. They all agree that I’m the smartest person in the world, and they go off to make the biggest fort ever.
That’s a pretty fucking awesome end to the story, huh? I promoted teamwork, the kids were receptive, and everybody lived happily ever after…
The peace treaty lasted 17 minutes. Then the fighting started again. And it was even worse this time. Juice boxes and Gogurts were used as weapons of mass destruction.
In the end, they all finally went to bed, and I was left standing in the rubble, like Charlie Sheen at the end of Platoon.
War is hell.
Don’t vote for my kids.
* Hands down, funniest food name ever.