Run Home Where You Feel Safe

As a kid, I learned not to go to mom for biting rhetoric. Support, hugs, wisdom for sure. But never a comeback. Wasn't her bag.

She came up with the worst retorts ever. I'm not kidding.

Example:

Sixth Grade - 1980

"How was your day dear?" she asked.

"Charlie made fun of me," I said. "Said I was ugly and no one would ever marry me."

"Tell him he doesn't know what he's talking about," she said.

"He'll just say, 'Oh yeah? Who's gonna marry you?'"

"Say 'John D. Rockefeller's nephew'."

I actually used that line the next day in school. And ate dirt afterwards.

Another example? Try this:

Ninth Grade - 1984

"How was your day dear?" she asked.

"Glenn called me titless in front of the whole class."

"Tell him to watch his mouth. He won't get into heaven with talk like that."

"Whatever you say, Mom. Wow. Meat loaf again?"

You get the idea. Bear this in mind as I relate the following. I am trying to help my children do better in the "Don't F*ck With Me" department. Doesn't every mother want that for her children?

My oldest and I had this conversation last night.

"How was your day dear?" I asked.

"Good. But Peter called me a donkey," he said.

"Oh yeah? Tell him you'd rather be a donkey than a donkey's ass."

That's what I'm talking about, baby.

Another example, this time with my youngest:

"How was your day dear?"

"I had a good day. Except Marshall keeps pushing me during lunch."

"Marshall sucks his thumb and wets the bed. He can't even talk properly. Have you seen his tongue? Tell Marshall to back off before you make his mouth worse."

I know. Mom of the year. My kids will thank me later.

They better. Or I'll have a few choice words for them, by God.