Tuesday, October 12, 2004

So I Married an Axe Murderer

My husband will say, even on pain of death, that he hates kids (except ours) and all people (except us) and that he will cross the street to kick a puppy (we don't have any puppies, but I can reasonably assume that, if we did, he'd exclude it). He's also a BIG FAT LIAR. He is in reality a big gooby pile of sweetness, but I let him grump around, muttering and scowling while I kiss him on the top of his rapidly growing forehead.

I'll present the evidence, and let the jury decide.

We used to have neighbors on the floor above us, and, if I were to be nice, I'd call them less-than-stellar parents. However, today I have no interest in being nice, so I'll just call them self-absorbed and insensitive asswipes. Let's move on, shall we?
They had two kids, one close to my son's age, and a newborn daughter. The boy was from the mother's first marriage, and the girl was the mother's and the stepdad's. I never asked about the boy's father, because of course that would be rude and presumptious of me, and no information was ever offered. However, from the way the son was treated, I can only imagine he was a direct descendant of Hitler.
The couple's work schedule didn't coordinate with the school's, and I wasn't working at the time, so I would babysit occasionally after school until the father came home. Now, here's where it gets interesting.
The son had a TV, a computer, and 2 video game players in his room. He would stay in there, until his mother was ready to leave, and he would pop out and kiss her goodbye, then disappear back into his room. Then the husband would come home, he would kiss and adore the daughter, who was in the living room with me. The boy would wander out, get all puppy-eyed and adorable and hurl himself at the father. He would then be barked at, told "Get off me. I just came home, I'm tired, leave me alone." So he would hide back in his room, and stayed there while the dad continued to be a good dad, to the baby. Anyway, when I babysat from then on, he was NOT allowed to play video games, and instead was forced to play board games with me, or color pictures for me, and several other cruel and unusual punishments, some involving Play-Do and Legos.

Now, after awhile, the dad's job here was downsized out of existence, so he had to look for work in another state. He left first, and the mother stayed behind, in order to give her notice and settle affairs here. I helped out with babysitting (she was working nights now), and she mentioned in passing to me that her son's birthday was coming up, and she 'regretted' that she wasn't going to have much time to do anything for him. Ok, Pinocchio, would you kindly get your nose out of my eye, now? Thank you. (Here comes the gooby-pile-of-sweetness part.) I told my husband about this, and he immediately said "Let's give him a cake! We'll bake it now, and we'll put up the Happy Birthday banner, and we'll send T1 up there, just to ask him to play, but we'll really have the cake as a surprise ... "

The defense rests.


Post a Comment

<< Home