the good old days

Warning: this is probably irrelevant to anybody but me, my spouse, my brother-in-law, and their parents. Sorry. Ignore unless you’re bored.

When your son graduates from college, the least you can do is go out to dinner with him. Otherwise you are BAD PARENTS. BAD!!! I don’t care how much you stuffed yourself on free cookies at the post-graduation reception, you can sit through one damn meal and have a day that is about HIS success, not YOUR neurotic self-indulgent fear of aging.

Also, when you’re visiting us, and planning on getting into town “sometime today”, could you please give us a phone call to let us know you’ve arrived? Especially considering one of the highways you were supposed to travel on has a few gaping holes in it since Indiana is experiencing extensive flooding. We realize you don’t care much about your sons (ref. previous paragraph) but for some ridiculous reason WE would like to know that YOU are not dead.

Then you ice the cake by calling up the next morning and complaining that we already made plans (in other words, went to work) and dropped our kids off in daycare? True, we could have just left them at home in the hopes that Nana and Grampa hadn’t drowned last night, but I guess I’m just a crazy overprotective bitch secretly devising ways to prevent you from seeing them until four in the afternoon.

Thank you. Please feel free to return to your normal life now, I’m done. At least, I hope I am, because they’re in town for another week.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, June 10th, 2008 at 12:41 pm and is filed under Etiquette, raising children, random self-love. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.