What did those kids do to that nice lady?

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Just Click It

Sometimes, I curse.  It’s true.  You might have noticed.  And you may not believe this, but I do attempt to not curse in front of my kids and in most cases I succeed, if only by cursing quietly.  But there is one situation, one act of parenthood that I cannot be held responsible for the words that come out of my mouth: the latching of the car seats in the car.   Although it is best to not have small children in the vicinity while I am performing this task, it is not always possible to keep them away because they like to “help” me.  (They are so “helpful.”)  Their young ears will be exposed to both verbal and sign language that is inappropriate and my only defense of this is, hey, at least when start to curse, they’ll do it right.  My recent session of latching car seats in Grandparents car inspired the following:  
A play in four acts 
Written by Me, starring Me, and directed by Me.
Me is inside the backseat of her car, attempting to put in first car seat.  It’s hot; Me is sweating and feeling agitated. Her children play nearby.
Me: Go in. Go in.  It should just latch.  It’s...right....there.   Latch.  Latch.  It’s right THERE.   Why the hell won’t this latch?  I can feel the bar.  It’s THERE.  IT’S RIGHT THERE.  My finger is on the damn bar.  You need to click.  Click, damn it.    Go.  In.  GO IN.  LATCH.  GODDAMNIT.  MOTHERF*#$@ER.  I HATE YOU.  I HATE THIS SEAT.  I HATE YOU SO MUCH.
Me sits back, takes a moment.  She takes a deep breath as her children stare at her and ask her if she needs Daddy.
ME: I’m FINE.  I don’t need Daddy.  Daddy’s not HERE, IS HE?  Me pauses; takes a breath.   Okay...there is the bar.  I feel it.  I see it.  Stop staring at me, stupid bar.  Why won’t it just go in?  It’s RIGHT FREAKING THERE.   WHY IS IT SO DAMN HOT BACK HERE?  Come on.  Please latch.  Pretty please?  Please please please please please.....
CLICK.  Success. Each time Me hears the click, she feels instant relief followed by anger at Click.  Why does Click need to mock her like that?  Like it was so easy to just...click it.  It’s not easy, Click.  IT DOESN’T ALWAYS JUST CLICK IN, CLICK.    I hate you, Click.   
Me sits back, exhausted.  Her kids cheer and shout encouragement.  This makes Me feel bad for being so angry and violent with the car seat and saying m’fer in front of her kids. Me reminds herself silently to stay calm. One click down, three to go.
See above.  
Again, see above.
Yes.  See above.  
If you have any interest in producing this fine piece of work, please contact me directly.

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