When I was seventeen and pregnant, I had a well-meaning aunt suggest that maybe I should give my baby up for adoption.
“Babies are hard,” she said. “Babies cry all the time. Babies need to eat. Every day. You can never leave them. Babies! BABIES! Don’t have babies!!!”
Yeah like I’m going to be scared of something that’s not even two feet tall.
If she’d been smart, she wouldn’t have bothered trying to warn me about the awfulness of babies anyways. Really, what she should have said was “Remember how you were five years ago? Yeah, you have this baby and someday you’ll have a twelve-year-old too.” That would have scared me shitless. Because let me tell you something. I do remember me at twelve and I was awful.
For example, this photo was taken of me on the Fourth of July when I was twelve. I was at a lovely party with my family, at our rich friends’ house, with tons of food, soda, and two pools. So, why was I so sadly hugging this dog? BECAUSE I WAS. Twelve year olds make no sense. That’s what someone should have told me before I started having sex.“Here use this condom because preteens are awful people.”
But truthfully, even if that’s what she had told me, I honestly can say that I would still never have been prepared for this beautiful, sweet, happy little angel:
To turn into this:
If you’ve ever had a 12-year-old, you know there are plenty of reasons you may want to kill that child. For example, here is a list of some of the reasons I’ve wanted to kill my son in the last month:
- Excessive whining
- He ate the chocolate I was hiding (from him).
- He left the kitchen a mess after making an egg.
- The doorknob in his bedroom is no longer attached to the door.
- There are dirty socks everywhere.
- Some of those dirty socks are mine.
- because he keeps stealing my D*@N socks instead of washing his own.
- We used to have dozens of forks. Now we have four.
- He ate a rueben sandwich then farted corned beef farts on my bed. Then left the room.
- He skipped after school math help to play football with friends.
- He is failing three subjects.
- He lies all the time like it’s his job.
- He keeps turning the shower head to the setting that uses the most water possible.
- He loves to change the station I’m singing to when we’re driving in the car even though he knows passengers don’t get to choose the music.
- Did I mention the whining? And the eye rolling? And the crying for no reason?
But even with all these perfectly valid reasons, we all know we shouldn’t kill our offspring. No matter how much of jerk he or she may be, we all reasonably know that death by parent is not the answer. So here I stand today, with a very good list of reasons why you shouldn’t kill your twelve-year-old.
Reasons Not To Kill Your 12-Year-Old
(Even though they totally deserve it.)
(Because they’re assholes.)
1. This is a great opportunity to try some new hair dye colors.
Deep Burgundy Brown, Auburn Black, Rich Mahogany, Dark Iridescent Blond, Deep Copper, Very Light Natural Blonde. Can’t choose your favorite color? It doesn’t matter! Try them all! That’s how often you’ll be touching up your newly popped grey hairs now that you’ve entered what I like to refer to as “the Dark Ages of Childhood”.
2. Orange is not really the new black.
A murder charge is a serious thing. You’re looking at 25 to life if you do that little brat in and you’ve got to ask yourself if that’s really how you want to go down.
3. They can’t help it
See these two brains? Do you see the difference between a normal 12-year-old’s brain and a 12-year-old’s brain on drugs? No? THAT’S BECAUSE THERE IS NO DIFFERENCE. 12-year-olds are basically the same as people on drugs.
4. Someday they’ll grow out of it
Rumor has it that at around 26 they will like you again.
5. Someday you’ll need them to wipe your butt.
Let’s be honest, you’re getting old. And someday you’re going to need someone to take care of you. Killing your kids now means not only have you wasted 12 years getting them this far alive but also, you will have no one to cut your lawn for you when you’re 80.
6. Because you love that little fucker.
As unreasonable as that may sound at this point, you know it’s true. You know deep down somewhere, hidden underneath all the glasses of wine, you still love that monster that you created so many years ago.
Alternatives to killing your child
1. Send them to a boarding or military school
There’s no shame in shipping your once favorite person in the world off to be raised by strangers until this storm passes. Remember, they’re qualified strangers that you’re paying to raise your child and your kid is probably going to be fine.
2. Get a divorce
You know how divorced parents always tell their kids it wasn’t their fault? They’re lying. Everyone with children that gets divorced does so because they have realized that it might be the only way to get some kid free time. Great when they’re toddlers! Also great when they’re teens!
3. Remember the good times
Sometimes I just stand in my living room and stare at this picture of my son back when he was a sweet, chubby, delicious newborn baby. And he walks in and is like “Why are you staring at my baby picture mom? Would you please just throw that away? Why are you trying to ruin my life?!” and I’m all “Oh no reason, just trying to remember how much time and energy I’ve already invested in you and getting you this far alive. Best walk on by, son.”
4. Hug him
Everyday. Everywhere. Especially in front of his friends. Because if you can’t kill him, at least you can make him wish you would.
This post was originally featured on Eve’s blog, That’s My Apple.