My husband informed me last night that he has tamed the wild beast…in referrence to me. According to him no one else has been able to achieve such a feat and I should be in awe of his manly powers.
Of course I laughed hideously inside my own self but on the outside I just smirked. The conversation started because we were discussing our son who recently has been a little jerk, like most 14 (soon to be 15) year old boys can be.
We were hashing out a good way to discipline one-young son for his inappropriate behavior and we couldn’t mutually agree on a plan of attack.
I informed him that MY way works. When one-young son becomes disorderly I don’t immediately ground him, send him to his room or take away his life. Instead I ignore him. My husband thinks this is ineffective but I told him that’s not true because I have my own way of getting him back for whatever he’s done.
What normally happens is a couple of days or so after being a brat he’ll come up to me and want something, like me burning a CD for him or something. I’ll tell him sure and string him along for a few days.
He’ll finally become exasperated with me and ask me when I’m going to do whatever it is he wants me to do and after several days I”ll finally look at him and very calmly, almost in passing, say, “No, I don’t think so. You’ve been a little shit lately.” And then I walk away.
It drives my son insane and later he’ll aplogize and be more compliant for a few days.
Of course my husband made some referrence to my Irish hertiage, stubborn nature, natural onery streak and way of getting people back when they least expect it. He then went on to say that so far he’s the only one that’s been able to contain me and my rottenness. The last thing he said to me and laughed about before I gave him the finger was, “I’m the one that tamed the wild beast. Who’s your daddy?”
Raunchy Taters 