Take a good look at this photo. What do you see?
A couple of innocent toddlers thrown together for a quick picture at the zoo? Maybe a couple of buddies hanging out with their moms and some monkeys and zebras?
No, my friends... Not even close.
What you see in the photograph is a mature, established relationship between a couple of young, crazy kids in love. Maybe we'll run away together... as soon as we can both run, of course... or maybe we'll just move in together and see how long it takes the island of Puerto Rico to sink into the ocean from the shock.
Okay... so maybe I'm being a tad dramatic. I might even be stretching the truth a little, but that doesn't mean that our parents are off the hook either. They need to pay for this forced friendship that they are trying so hard to create between us. They're the ones who put us together all of the time and they are the ones that keep inventing trips to the zoo in order to force Gia and I to interact. So what else do they expect? But my point is that by being together so much and so often, Gia and I have stumbled across something that we both agree is very important.
Our parents are complete idiots and it is totally up to us to train them. They have no idea what they are doing so we have to teach them the proper way to raise us or we could turn out to be really horrible children. And no one likes having horrible children around... at least that's what Daddy always tells me everytime I pretend to throw a tantrum.
Why am I pretending to throw tantrums? It's all a part of something that I like to call: Mommy-Daddy Bootcamp.
It works like this... Everybody knows that before you build something up you have to break it down first, right? Well this is a part of that breaking down process. I've put together a plan where I will simultaneously attack my rookie parents where it will hurt them the most. Their REM sleep cycles. It's really a stroke of genius. It took some effort, but I've trained myself to wake up at random times of the night and then scream at the top of my lungs Mama and/or Dada. This exercise is good for testing their reflexes... their night vision... and their thresholds for pain, especially when they stub their toe on my Mickey Mouse Fire Engine in the dark and then fall into my closet as Daddy did last week.
Sometimes I wake up at 1:30 AM... sometimes it's as late as 4:45AM. The time of the night isn't as important as the amount of time that you spend awake. That's the crucial element. Getting up at 4 AM is one thing... getting up at 4 Am and then staying awake with a fussy toddler until 5:15 AM is a whole different story. They're not going back to sleep no matter what after that. By then the sun is already starting to come out... they're night of slumber is over. I'm telling you... it's genius.
Another little training device that I've been using is a little something that I call: Pay Attention To Me! The concept is very simple. Mommy wants to go on the internet and get a little work done... Pay Attention to Me! Mommy wants to talk on the phone for more than 37 seconds... Pay Attention to Me! Mommy wants to cook or clean up the kitchen a little bit... Pay Attention to Me! This sort of exercise is wonderful for honing their concentration skills and their patience. It's a form of tough love but it seems to work because by putting them through the ringer now... it'll be easier when I break curfew or dent Daddy's car later as a teenager.
The final exercise in my bag of tricks is called: The Worst Possible Moment for a Tantrum. I like to pull this little number at the exact moments when I think it will help them the most. I need to test their poise under pressure... their ability to remain calm under duress. Picking the exact perfect moment to throw your fake tantrum is the key to this exercise. When have I done it? When Daddy is desperately trying to order at the drive-thru... When Mommy is talking to a potential new client on Skype... when Mommy and Daddy are signing papers for the closing on their house... When the post-adoption case worker is doing a home visit... When Daddy takes me to work with him for a couple of hours while Mommy goes to the dentist... and, my personal favorite, at the very beginning of airplane rides to either Texas or Puerto Rico.
Look... I don't make the rules, Okay? I just enforce them. These two need the training now because it's only going to get more difficult as I get older and more independent. It's like raising an alligator as a pet. Oh sure he's cute as a button when he's little and you love to show him off to all of your friends... but eventually you know that he's going to rip your arms off as you try to feed him. What's going to happen when I start asking tough questions about the birds and the bees? What will happen the first time I talk back to them? What will they do when I decide to get a tattoo... on my face.
They need to be ready. They need to be prepared. They need to be trained. They'll thank me someday for all of this. Maybe not today... maybe not tommorrow... but someday.
OBTW... You're Welcome.
This is my pet giraffe. His name is Barney. I know that the name dissapoints but keep in mind that I am not even 2 years old and my references are extrememely limited. My other name options were going to be either Dora or Elmo.
Let's see... If I move my Tuesday 4pm over to Wednesday then that would bump my board meeting down to 2 pm and then that would free up my entire afternoon on Friday.
So... this hump is actually filled with fat that helps you survive long periods of time without water? Impressive... how long can you go without farting? My record is 4 minutes... wups, sorry Mommy.
Hello, Chuck E Cheese? I want a reservation for 2 near the singing Rat... say around 11 am?
Does your phone have a GPS? See if you can find my nose... Daddy keeps asking where mine is and I'm getting a little tired of it.