I love my kids and they’re good kids – blah blah blah, insert typical mummy-about-to-slay-the-kids disclaimer here – BUT… man, do they do some incredibly, wildly, profoundly irritating things. To me. At me. Yes, they are doing profoundly irritating things at me.
The number one thing my kids do at me is slide their pants off inside their shorts and leave them tangled together like a skunk caught in a trap. Wrestling those pants out of the shorts can take every ounce of strength I can muster at the end of a long day and sometimes even that’s not enough. I’ve been known to wash the pants inside the shorts, dry them, fold them and put them away in their drawer. The kids don’t think “OMG, I should have taken my shorts off then my underpants pants last time I wore these shorts.” No. The kids think, “Now would you look at that, my underpants are ready to go.”
Other things they do at me are:
- Bicker for days about things that have no meaning in the actual world (“Dumbledore got to Little Whinging by apparition, no he didn’t, yes he did, no he didn’t, etc”).
- Draw on a corner of a clean piece of A4 paper and then use another piece of paper for the next part of the drawing and so on and so forth until the drawing is complete in which case they leave a meaningless trail of 37 pieces of A4 paper from one end of the house to the other.
- Beg me to let them have something trivial (“Pleeeeeease can I have the empty cereal box, PLEEEEEEASE”) and then leave it somewhere for me to later trip over.
Don’t even get me started on the listening. I’ll call the child out for not listening and they’ll say, “What? Sorry, pardon? What?” because they are still not listening.
“Why don’t you listen to me when I’m trying to teach you how to respect your things?” I will say.
“My teacher was really nice today,” the child will reply.
Then there is the towel situation. Wet towels litter my home from bedrooms to bathrooms to kitchens. The kids will go for a swim in the pool and towel off and drop the towel on the deck outside and go and have a shower and use another towel to dry off there and drop that one in the living room floor on the way to their bedroom to get changed.
My kids will step out of their clothes (see “skunk and trap” method above) and leave them in situ wherever they are changing and then trip over them on their way out the door and cry for days, but still not once, not ever pick up the clothes.
My kids would rather sandpaper their own eyeballs than go to sleep when it’s bedtime.
My kids would rather lie on the ground and quietly die than get dressed for school in the morning.
My kids would rather make their mother twitch with frustration than pick up after themselves, do a chore without being asked five times, turn the music down or be remotely nice to each other without requiring a script (“Okay, Cappers, now you say to the Badoo, ‘I really like the way you…’ and Badoo, you say to Cappers, ‘thank you, Cappers'” etc).
Oh, those maddening kids! It’s a good thing I love them so because honestly, who on earth would put up with living with kids except their parents?
What do your kids do that really riles you?chil