Kids are spoiled brats. Well, most are. I think it’s human nature or child nature to want. Especially to want what you don’t have.
My own children fall into this category. With an endless tirade of “mommy can I have”, “mommy I want” and “but mommy I need”, I have been guilt, against my better judgment, of spoiling also. It’s just easier than listening to mommy, mommy, mommy.
Yes, I shove a dollar at her for the damned concession stand at my son’s games to shut her up so I can watch it, yes, I buy the socks he wants because it’s pointless to pay half as much for ones he’s not going to wear. But I firmly believe that I do have will power, for the most part, and they are not as spoiled as many children I know.
Thanks to Facebook, I can now see that maybe I’m not nearly as bad as half the population I’ve somehow become friends with. I am subjected to hundreds upon hundreds of pictures, hard core evidence that many parents have completely lost control of saying no to their children. These same parents “complain” about their children’s possessions and obsessions and then post pictures of yet another trip to Build A Bear or a goodie bag of video games “just because it’s Wednesday”. It makes the bile in throat rise because I refuse to give into my children’s every whim and these parents make me look bad.
My older one has pretty much given up asking. Well, there’s the occasional whine and whimper when we leave a store where he got nothing, but he’s been pretty much beaten down by the word no over the last twelve years.
The younger one is much more persistent and frankly, much more annoying with her requests. Unlike the older one who pretty much only asked for what he truly wanted or thought he wanted, the little one wants whatever she can possess whether it’s practical or not.
I think if she wasn’t getting anything in the store, she would beg me to buy her a steak, just for the sake of getting something. Who ever thought up the idea of sticking register lane shelves with crap to buy should seriously be forced to sit at every register lane in the country and be forced to hear the cries of children from ever walk of life when they can’t have the candy, gum, wind up toy, batteries, etc. from the shelf. We should use it to force suspects to admit to their crimes…it’s pure torture.
Every freaking time we hit the register lane, this is the type of conversation we have, “Mommy, can I get gum?”
“Can I get tic tacs?”
“But I wannnnnn em!”
“I don’t care.”
“They’re only a dollar….”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re not getting them.”
“Can I get chap stick?”
“I just bought you chap stick yesterday.”
“I ate it.”
“Well, then, that’s exactly why you’re not getting chap stick today.”
“Yes, I know. You told me that in the last two stores.”
“Where are we going next?”
“To the mall.”
“Can we go to Build A Bear?”
“Why notttttttt?” (Emphasis on high pitched whine)
“Because it’s not your birthday and Christmas is coming.”
“Can I get a book?”
“We just went to the library and took out five books. You have plenty to read.”
“I just want to read and get smart, Mommy!” She bites her lip and forces back the crocodile tears.
The woman behind me clucks her tongue, obviously disapproving of me. Join the club, lady.
I ignore her and my child as I load the items on the conveyer belt.
“Can we go to Claire’s?” she begs and I cringe. I loathe Claire’s. My daughter wanders around aimlessly and I end up buying crap she doesn’t need and will inevitably break before we even pull into the driveway.
I sigh. “What do you need from Claire’s?”
“I want earrings.”
“You have seventy pairs of earrings.” I am not even slightly exaggerating. She has seventy pairs. All from Claire’s. “You don’t need any more jewelry. You have plenty.”
“You have jewelry, too.”
“What’s your point?” I am now impatiently tapping my foot, tired of playing this game of seeing who will break first.
“Why do you need this then?” She points accusingly at the necklace I’ve bought.
“Because I make the money, that’s why. And I’m not spending it on more crap that you will break, lose or forget about before tomorrow. End of discussion.”
She changes tactics.
“How much money do you make,” she inquires sweetly.
“That’s none of your business,” I snap back.
“Is it more than ten dollars?” she asks coyly.
I fall right into the trap. “Of course it’s more than ten dollars.”
She waves a beanie baby under my nose. “Then you can afford dis cutie wootie waddle baby.”
“You’re cheap and you’re mean!” She stomps her foot for added effect.
The people in line behind us are now staring. I’m getting the look of why didn’t you just buy her the pack of gum? In fact, in several situations, the person in front of us has actually bought the gum and in those case, I want to crawl under the cart and die of embarrassment.
I’ll tell you why I won’t just buy the gum. It’s not because I’m cheap as my children claim. It’s much simpler. Because first I give into the gum (which she will leave on the coffee table and the dog will be blowing bubbles…every time).
After the gum comes buying crap she doesn’t really need because the high pitched whining is too much to bear. And then finally, I will find myself drowning in a house full of stuffed animals and books and puzzles and games that nobody needed, nobody plays with and is still not enough for my spoiled brat because she is expecting more. It’ll never be good enough.
We will have a full fledged Veruca Salt on our hands…”But I want an Oompaloompa now, Daddy!” and it will be entirely my fault.
So the next time you hear me saying no to my kid on the check out line, could you just look away and let me continue to be the meanest mommy ever?