“You brought that shit on yourself.”
This is a fundamental truth that can’t be denied. Every behaviour (good or evil) that my kids have ever flirted with over the years, ultimately comes back to something that I did or didn’t do. (Like beat their backsides.)
When my daughter was about 5 or 6 years old, and testing my patience at bedtime with her sassy, finger-waggin’, talkin’-back, grumpy, drama-princess shenanigans, I put her to her room. Of course she wanted to discuss/negotiate the terms of this bedtime confinement, and I was having none of it. The noise from her mouth would just not stop. It was soul-sucking. When finally, at the brink of my despair, I expressed my discontent in a screamo pitch that set off all the car alarms in the neighbourhood.
NOT. ANOTHER. WORD.
A slam of the door, and then sweet, blessed silence. Brilliant silence. Ahh… I had had the last word. I won. I was in control. I almost wanted to rejoice in song. (I may or may not have danced a jig.)
As the minutes of silence continued to stretch out, I had hoped and assumed that she had finally gone to bed. Bent to the will of my awesome parenting, she succumbed to doing as she was told. I smiled triumphantly as I came upstairs and got myself ready for bed—all the while mentally preparing my long-winded acceptance speech for the parent-of-the-year award. It was then that I saw it. A single piece of paper sprawled across my pillow. It conveyed a significant message, but not a word was used.
I brought that shit on myself.
UberScribbler 
Dude, if I did that, my parents would’ve waterboarded me (not really, but they’d come close)
I was an annoying brat too, I hated bedtime but now I cherish every second of sleep I get. I remember this one time my mom told me if I went to bed exactly at 9pm (which was my bed time), she’d take to the mall and get me a game that I wanted sooooo bad. The very next morning at 10am, she was like “lol nope” and went back to bed.
This was my response, or at least I wanted it to be:
LOL! I love love love Eddie. Love.
Oh man, that is military grade parenting right there. Do your best Ronald Reagan impression, put your boot down and say “We Do Not Negotiate With Terrorists”. Your daughter’s response though? Priceless
I went through that kind of stuff with my son, but instead of arguing with him, he challenged me. Little tyke would run all over the house come bed time and yelling at the top of his lungs “YOU CAN’T CATCH ME!”. When I finally caught him, he wouldn’t fuss, he would fight me, he accepted defeat and went to bed. I’m glad to say that during age 5-12, my son has been my personal trainer.
LOL! Kids are special, aren’t they? ;p
I cannot think of another way to spend my time than with my kids. They can get on your last nerve sometimes but at the end of the day, their you’re kids and you’ll be there for them through thick and thin.
My son’s become grown since his days of forcing cardio on daddy at 9pm. I’d like to say all his energy has been put into an outlet once he joined the U.S. Navy when he turned 18. He said it was something he’s been wanting to do since forever. Any other pre-teen has posters of their favourite artists and whatnot, not my boy. His room was up to it’s knees in Navy SEAL posters. I didn’t like the idea but I let him go, I had to. It was my duty as a father to give him that push into the real world. I was always there for him in any event too. I was there when he graduated Navy Basic Training and then 5 years later when he graduated from Basic Underwater Demolition/SEALs training. I’m glad to say that I gave him that push (however minor it may have been) to accomplish all that. There isn’t one single day where I want to hold him and never let go, that also comes with the grievance of not having him home for the holidays.
I can’t believe I just wrote all that. I ramble on ends when I talk about my kids.
I love that you wrote all of that! 🙂 Thank you. It’s so great to hear from another parent who adores their kids above all else. We may just be two peas in a pod Chuck. 🙂