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Tuesday, December 13, 2011

In Celebration of Bad Parenting

Dear Laney,

You have a new favorite cartoon every week or so these days, which has taught me a valuable lesson: Woe be unto she who makes fun of Dora, because something far worse could come along next week. At present, you are gaga over "The Wonder Pets," and I hate them with the blazing intensity of a Crisco-filled skillet. "The Wonder Pets" is the result you'd get if you were ever tempted to throw some stock photos of farm animals in a blender with a half-dozen frustrated musical theatre majors. Honest to God, those little singing critters give me a facial tic.



In the past month, you've also become an insomniac, and you wake up every morning - like clockwork - at 4am. We've tried putting you back in bed, we've tried putting you in bed with us, we've tried taking turns going to bed with you, we've tried letting you fuss and ignoring you. Nothing has worked. You're up and ready to rock n' roll. About a week ago, in a fit of desperation, I remembered that you are totally capable of running Netflix Instant all by yourself on the Wii. And Netflix has multiple seasons of - here it comes - "The Wonder Pets." So at 4:30am one morning last week, I plopped you on the couch with a pillow and a blanket, gave you some milk, handed you the remote and wished you luck. Then I went back to bed.



This is bad parenting all around, but let me be very clear on this point: I. Do. Not. Care.

For weeks at a time, I've been running on no more than five hours of sleep a night, while trying to GROW A HUMAN BEING. If a guinea pig in a cape helps me get a few more hours of sleep in a week, then bless his stupid little poorly-animated heart.

Love,
Mom

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