There’s been a system in place for years, existing within my own head, whereby anyone who sends my kid home from their kid’s birthday party, fist clenched around a bag full of kiddie crack, shall find a noisy toy among the rubble of opened presents at the next party.
I have railed against the candy filled party favor bags long and loud. But today, I put down my bullhorn.
But do not send another piece of plastic junk into my house.
See, today we celebrated Christopher Columbus planting his flag in somebody else’s yard and saying “buzz off bitches” with family time in the playroom. Also fondly known across that great country Columbus found as “throwing some shit out because one kid can’t possibly play with all these toys.”
Today I was forced to reason with a 6-year-old that the abandonment of one plastic snake purchased at the dollar store by some random mother is not going to ruin her life. Thanks to a county recycling program that lets you put all plastic in one jumbled mess at the curb, it’s not even going to ruin the environment.
Today, I called it quits on the “let’s get healthy campaign.”
Give her sugar, I beg you. She’ll blow through as much as she can before her stomach starts to ache, and I have to drop the rest in the garbage — or better yet, the compost.
Sugar will not sneak its way out of the playroom and slither across the living room, decamping from her pile of playthings to nest under the couch with the dust bunnies. Sugar will not become a possession never played with but suddenly prized as it sails through the air from one side of the room toward the trash can. Sugar will not make me feel like I’m a bad citizen for clogging the landfills, like a bad housekeeper for its sudden appearance in the middle of the kitchen floor when a guest drops by, like a bad mother for starting the whole “but it has to go” fight on a national holiday.
Sugar my kid up or whistles are in your future.
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