This is a short blog post to honor the next generation of rising adults who shared with me that they do not possess the capability of reading anything more than a Facebook post or Instagram hashtag due to their Attention Deficit Disorder.
I have even limited it to a word count that they can relate to – exactly 666. I’ve also added a link to help in keeping them focused. I learned about this website last week when photos were snapped of my niece body harnessing her 3 year old’s temper tantrum because she wouldn’t let him steal toys from a store. Thus, making her an “Asshole parent.”
First, you spend 20+ years answering THE questions:
Mom, where did I put my shoes? My 
keys? My phone? My wallet? My coat?
Mom, is Good Friday when Jesus was Born? (10 year Catechism student failure)
Mom, can you put money in my account?
Mom, can you text me your log-in and password for Amazon? And what’s your credit card number?
Mom, what happens when a tampon gets stuck? How do you get it out? (Try a Dyson vacuum)
Mom, where’s your nose hair trimmer? (Oh, you mean “my bikini” trimmer?)
Mom, is baking soda the same as baking powder?
Mom, how many months can chicken be in the freezer? (for as many as you leave it there)
Mom, what’s the Optimum password?
Mom, what’s my Social Security number?
Mom, do you have my passport?
Mom, what’s the difference between unsweetened and semi-sweetened chocolate?
Mom, I have a bad toothache. What should I do?
Mom, I have a rash. What do you think it’s from? (photo sent)
Mom, do I have AAA on my car? (car is dead)
Mom, can you buy me a case of organic tampons?
Mom, can you make me a gynecologist appointment?
Mom, can I borrow some underwear? I’ll just take your thongs – you’re too old and that’s disgusting.
Then they morph into semi-adults and you have to put up with this shit:
Mom, why don’t you drink water?
Response: Because I’m holy. I prefer turning water into wine as per Bible verse John 2:1-11. Not to mention when we were kids we were outside 12 hours a day. If we went home, “She” would make us do stuff like chores. The “She” being my Mother. You didn’t see us walking around with a 32 ounce bottle of smart water strapped to our ass. We took a sip from a hose and that sip lasted 6 hours on a summer day.
Mom, Did you call the plumber for the broken spigot?
My response: What’s the rush? The hose has been outside all winter, and it’s frozen solid. I’ll call when it thaws and it really needs to be shut off.
Mom, did you call the builder to get a price? ….For the damage when the tree fell against the house and on the deck.
My response: Here again. I don’t need that deck until pool season. It’s only March, so what is the rush. I still have my Christmas decorations up outside.
Mom, did you call and make the appointment with the Accountant to get our taxes done? (since when do we file “jointly” with our offspring?)
My Response: Yea, so all of you little shits can get your refunds automatically deposited into your checking accounts and then I have to strong-arm you like a collection agency to squeeze your portion out to pay the Accountant’s fee? Of course they all plead poverty after they just got the deposit.
Mom, I’m taking the cat to have her eye removed while you’re away. It’s only $2,300 so we’re even on that transmission you bought me.
And the summation as I age and my family’s plans for me:
“Don’t worry, B, we’re never going to let you go. We’re gonna hook your life support up to the generator.”
Perhaps I could start the sister website: www.assholekids.com and post a photo of me lying on the floor after eating the “special” chocolate chip cookie.
Peace out.
The Word According to Be Hoxie (Hok-see) 