Bad parenting tips from a pro
I know of no other combination of words that strikes fear in the heart of a young kid than when a mom utters the phrase;
You just wait until we get home.
Not because it’s an implied threat.
Mom’s threaten their kids all the time whenever they misbehave. So what’s different?
It’s what accompanies this statement that makes the kid wanna shit himself¹ on the scene—it’s the mad mom look.
I should be more specific.
Mom’s look isn’t angry mad. Her look is mental mad, having finally lost her motherfucking mind.
Pushed to her breaking point by an eight year-old and now teetering on the precipice, she has two choices.
She could count to three, an old disciplinary technique signaling the kid that whatever they’re doing had damned well better stop by the three count, or else.
Or else what?
She knows she’s not going medieval on the little brat right there in the food court. That could draw contempt from lunch-goers and quite possibly, an impromptu visit from Child Protective Services. Her only out is a threat, but not just any threat.
She needs something powerful. Something that’ll jolt the bastard with such force, it’ll be as though he’d just stuck his wet dick in a toaster.
She begins to quiver and quake, her mercury rising.
Facial muscles are severely contorting, eyelids twitch violently and her eyebrows, once plucked to Angelina Jolie perfection are now conspicuously missing, having somehow relocated to her hairline. This as her mouth and lips magically disappear, in their place a vicious, canine-tooth baring snarl.
“You just wait until we get home, mister!”
In concert with this warning, her look is no longer an implicit threat. It’s a bellwether to even the most daft of kids how the kraken is about to unleash if their shit doesn’t stop post haste.
And how does the kid react?
The part of the kid’s brain controlling reason and logic, the neocortex, the area that should be loudly warning; “Back-off or shit’s about to get real” apparently is on a break.
Instead, his reptilian brain, the area encouraging demonic behaviors that routinely get his ass beaten like tribal war drums is snickering, whispering into his ear; “She won’t hit us in front of all these people. Go ahead, do it one more time, let’s see what she does next.”
Reptile brain rolls a seven.
She doesn’t smack the stupid out of him in front of everyone. That’s because her brain, or at least the area controlling emotion has now been commandeered by another region. A Somalian-like cheerleading section telling her; “Fuck it, let’s kill this son-of-a-bitch and go to Sephora. We’ll be alright, we’ll claim insanity.”
But she doesn’t.
Apparently the mom thing is too strong and she knows inherently how any deadly deed at this point is likely to land her a starring role in the state’s death chamber.
So what does she do?
She musters up a harsh look and shouts the warning.
But it really wasn’t the warning that scared the kid. It was the look.
IMPORTANT NOTE TO MOMS WITH 8 YEAR-OLD BOYS
To have any meaningful (and lasting) effect, to scare this little motherfucker as though he’d just witnessed a men’s prison gangbang, you’re going to need to go hard with your scariest look.
May I suggest the look you gave your husband in the delivery room, right about the time your ob said; “Ok, go ahead and push NOW, you’re right at ten centimeters.”
The kid in this story was me.
Mom was not mental, nor was she a serial killer but she did come close on multiple occasions.
Her facial muscles eventually quit working when she got older, she looked like Munch’s ‘The Scream’.
¹It’s generally always a male child that fucks up whenever a car trip and shopping for women’s clothing are involved.