The other night I took my 10 month old daughter to the park so she can practice picking up crack pipes at a young age. Listen Lady, I’m being a good mom, she really needs to work on that whole pincher grasp thing and this is a great resolution.
The swings at this park are set a little ways back so it’s necessary to park the car and do a short trek up Everest first. This is kosher when the sun is shining and leprechauns prance around a pot of gold. This is NOT kosher when the sun sets and releases a swarm of EVERY BUG THAT EVER EXISTED. Dear mosquitoes, I do not want west nile virus. If you land on my arm chances are you will not live to taste my delicious, homegrown blood.
I don’t mind going outside to play basketball or hang around a bonfire. However, when you pair being outside that with anything “nature-esque”, like hiking or camping, you might as well rufee me. Nature and this lady do not equal pleasant times. I would go out on a limb to compare my nature experiences to using sandpaper on your ass. Rough, with raw leftovers.
My form of camping consists of a hotel without a pool. Unless you want me to pistol whip you, do not mention the words tent, blow up air mattress, or sleeping bag in my presence. There is a reason I work full time and it has nothing to do with providing a better life for my spawn. It is because I refuse to live like a caveman.
I’m pretty sure that I have passed this “I HATE NATURE AND WILL NEVER HUG TREES” attitude onto my daughter. We have tried to sit her on the grass a few times this summer and she does not like it. She touches it with the least amount of surface area possible and then she immediately bolts to the nearest human so she can be picked up.
I’ve included some pictures to display her hatred. I love passing down weird pet peeves to my offspring.