Marshmellow Fluff

I was on the phone with Jenny and her daughter was doing something in the background that wasn’t favorable.  I could tell because she used her daughter’s middle name.  We all know that the only things a middle name is good for is an alternative option if you have a first name like Peehead or Harrychang…and to be used by your parents when you are pissing them off.  Besides those two things middle names are pointless.

After the threat of using Gracie’s middle name didn’t work, Jenny began to count. 

 ”1….2…..” and I couldn’t help but wonder, what exactly happens when she gets to 3?  Luckily she didn’t have to.  Not because Gracie stopped her behavior, but because Jenny just kind of trailed off in her counting.  Which told me that she didn’t know the answer either.

Growing up both Jenny and I probably didn’t let our moms get to 3.  For me it was because my mom scared the shit out of me and for Jenny, well I think it was because her mom got sick of counting to 1,000.  But now, as I am reaching, and quickly passing ideal child-bearing years, I figured this was vital information for me to obtain.  I mean, what are the options?  You count to and reach 3 and then suddenly you’re in a tirade of spanking, cursing at and pummeling your child?  While that sounds like the most logical choice, society frowns upon this type of behavior in the supermarket and restaurants, because really where else do children act up the most?  Nowadays parents don’t fly into public displays of abuse, we have learned decorum in the new millenium.  These days parents lock their jaws tight and talk through their teeth, “You stop it now or else!”  There is nothing more amusing than a sleepy and grouchy child being talked to by their parent as if they have their jaw wired shut.

I don’t recall too many lashings, although I  still get flashbacks when I see a whisk. Yes, a whisk.  I grew up in a household with a mom raising me and apparently the female version of a belt was an otherwise benign tool to make eggs.

Here is what I think…you hope to never get to 3.  You try your best to instill in your child the consequences of getting to 3 far outweigh their expectations.  You make them believe that counting represents the looming threat of being held prisoner in their room for days on end with only a piece of bread to survive off of, or that it means they just get walked away from and abandoned in the supermarket forcing them to live the rest of their days among the aisles of ketchup and pickles.  It’s too big a secret to let children discover, that we have nothing.  We have no idea of what we are actually going to do.  Children can stop believing in Santa and the Easter Bunny but if they stop believing in the power of getting to 3…well then we’re all screwed, and it’s just one step closer to the Lord of the Flies.