Conversations from the Park

swings

Other Random Mom: points at my preschooler. He's so cute.

Me: Thanks. He's a tyrant. He's lucky he's cute.

ORM: Yeah, mine too. I'm just finally getting him to sleep through the night, can you believe it. He's almost five.

Me: That sounds horrible.

ORM: It is. It's horrible. He's actually horrible.

Me: Oh, mine's horrible, too. He's four, too, so…

ORM: Pretty sure mine will still be horrible when he's five. And probably beyond that. Probably til he's 18.

Me: 28

ORM: Yeah. Probably his whole life judging by his commitment to assholery now.

Me: He does seem fully committed.

ORM: Oh. Sorry about that. He spits. And bites. He's pretty much feral. I can't take him anywhere.

Me: Mine hasn't really bit people yet, but there's still time.

ORM: There's totally time.

Me: Scads of it. Nothing but time around here.

ORM: Except when there's no time, you know? Like ever. No time to get my work done, do the laundry…

Me: Shave your legs…

ORM: Change your underwear…

Me: Well, there are limits.

ORM: Not really. I mean, I guess.

Me: pulls my kid off the top of the monkey bars. So, you work? What do you do?

ORM: I'm a sales rep. I can choose my hours, so I try to work when he naps.

We both laugh until we cry.

ORM: You?

Me: I'm a writer. I write books for teenagers. And business stuff.

ORM: Cool. Hey. Have you seen anything good on Netflix lately? I'm looking for something new to watch.

Me: Stares blankly.

ORM: You're not on Netflix.

Me: Oh no. I mean, I am. I just cannot remember anything I've watched on Netflix in the last six months.

ORM: Haha! Mom brain.

Me: It would be funny if it weren't so sad.

ORM: I know. I used to know things.

Me: Important things.

ORM: Yeah. Things outside of the color of my kid's last poop.

Me: What were those things we used to know?

ORM: Things like places to shop where you cannot also buy food.

Me: I haven't been to the mall in seven years. If I can't buy it in Target…

ORM: …it ain't worth buying.

Me: The outright stress of taking three kids to the mall. I mean. Come ON.

ORM: Yeah. Not gonna happen. Plus, there's the time thing.

Me: Back to that.

ORM: Yeah, I guess I circle around a bit.

Me: I'm circling the drain.

ORM: Aren't we all.

We both push our kids on the swings.

Me: Hey, wanna grab lunch some time? You know, like some time after we drop off the kids? Before the craziness of the workday sets in?

ORM: Sure. Let me just find a spare hour in the day to do that.

We look at each other. Burst into hysterics.

My Son Should Be Arrested

My Son Should Be Arrested

911 Operator: "911. What is your emergency?"

Me: Hyperventilating. "Yes, hello. I need you to send an officer to my house. Right now."

911 Operator: "Calm down, ma'am. What is the situation? Are you safe?"

Me: "Yes, I'm safe, but this is a very dire, very urgent problem. I'll need you to send someone immediately."

911 Operator: "Okay, ma'am. I'm dispatching someone to your property as we speak. What is the nature of your emergency?"

Me: "Yes, it's nature."

911 Operator: Pauses. "No, I mean, what is the problem?"

Me: In a whisper. "It's my son."

911 Operator: "Speak up, ma'am. I cannot hear you. What is the problem?"

Me: Shouting in despair. "It's my SON!"

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