Piecing it back together.

My future cheeren have been on my mind a lot lately. What will they be like? Will they be smart? Dumb as rocks? Reasons to be proud? Disappointing? Assholes? Don’t worry, I’m in no hurry to have them as I am well aware that I’m still too selfish to be responsible for a child. Now, anyone who knows me knows that when I do have little ones running around, I’m going to love on them like the world is going to end if I don’t. Hell, for me, it probably will. I fucking LOVE kids! Seriously! I play with them like I’m one of them, without regard to what the boring “grown ups” all around have to say. Fuck you, I’m playing right now. But I’m not gonna dupe myself into thinking that it’s all fun and games to raise bambinos. There are gonna be problems. Money, exhaustion, discipline, stress. Kids, I tell ya. How am I going to handle it when it’s really game time?

Too much? Not if your kids are ninja robots like mine will be. You loser. Witcha regular-ass kids.

I wish I could see clearly into the future and know exactly what motherhood will bring me so I can prepare. I like to be prepared. I’d like to know, in advance, about that time my kid finally realizes that the poop is in his diaper and he decides to put his hand down there. In public. And then touches everything. Including other people’s kids. I’d like to go ahead and formulate a plan for that day. Even though I can’t create an accurate, 3D, and color-coded road map for my progeny’s antics, I can at least plot and plan ways to exact my revenge on them, right? I think that’s fair.

Like, sometime when they’re 3 or 4–maybe 5, if my kid is slow–I’m going to plant the idea in their head that one or more of their grandparents used to be a superhero. I might even embellish it with an actual story, but I think just the planting will work. I tried it on Puppy today and it worked like a charm. She now kind of believes that Grandma was once a superhero and one day, when she realizes it couldn’t possibly be true, she’ll be sorely disappointed and I will be triumphant!

I think the most dreaded moment of parenthood comes at learner’s permit time. I’m gonna have to put a TEENAGER on my car insurance policy! After I’m done re-mortgaging the house to pay for their premium, I think the least I deserve is a little more parental revenge. Target: the first car. This requires a lot of thinking. I gotta get them something that’s old, but not a hooptie, (!) cuz then I’ll end up spending tons of money every time it needs repairs AND have to give rides while it’s in the shop. The car has to have no sex appeal, whatsoever. Whatever I get, I need to make sure it’s the base model. No special ish like DVD, navigation, and subwoofers and junk (that’s practically standard in today’s new cars, smh).  No, none of that shit! This! Is! Parenthood! When I think about what the future’s equivalent to today’s ’92 Buick LeSabre would be, almost nothing comes to mind. Unfortunately, Buick went somewhere a couple of years ago and found its sexy, so we can’t go to them. Maybe the 2010 Mitsubishi Galant. Now that’s boring. Whatever. I’ve got years to think about it.

Ooh! Maybe I could get myself a Swagger Wagon when they’re born and hand it down come license time! No, no, no. They can fit too many friends in there and that’s dangerous. I don’t want the kid dead, I just wanna have my fun.

Now what to send them off to college with…

Just went back to proofread. Yo, I ain’t shit for this, lol!