Last night was knit crochet night at Borealis Yarn Shop in St Paul! It was my first night hanging out there. We discussed babies, trading dogs for whiskey, trading babies for whiskey, cervix poking and the ease of locking a dog in a box so you could go to work as opposed to having to pay for daycare.
Then it was opined that perhaps you COULD do that with a kid, but the consequences might be a little more severe than a hyperactive dog.
So, I guess trade the baby for whiskey before you have to choose between buying whiskey or paying for daycare! Easy!
Speaking of trading kids for whiskey, has there been any actual proof of kids drinking bleach on that reality show? I’ve seen speculation and hearsay and ‘it’s been reported that’ but no actual real evidence. And, frankly, with the hyperactive media shoving one sensation down our throats after another, I usually choose to reserve judgment on these things. Their retractions tend to be small and unnoticed. I don’t watch TV and I haven’t seen this show so I don’t know how harsh it is. I have a hard time believing any kid was ever really in danger. Network weasels lawyers generally don’t sign off on things like “kid might get bit by the rattlesnakes we lure into her cabin”. They’re kinda jumpy about that stuff, even if the parents did sign a contract that might have said “we will not hold cbs responsible for taking a rattlesnake, opening its mouth and pushing its fangs directly into the skin of my child”. Weird how the law works, contracts of consent do not absolve an entity from responsibility in the face of willful neglect.
The more I read about it the more I think, “hmmm I could get $25,000 to send the kid to ‘summer’ camp for three months. during this time he will be away from his shitty friends, all the cultural influence like MTV and beer commercials. I get some quiet. He might grow up a little, learn to work and maybe be responsible. Oh, better take out that life insurance policy on him before he goes. you know, just in case.”
I don’t have kids, though, I have dogs, and I don’t have to really worry about their friends since they can’t work a doorknob and can’t leave the house without me!
The day Chester comes home with a bag of catnip that ‘isn’t his’ I’m sending him to Dog Nation.