Sometimes it feels like language falls short and we seem to be missing the right word for something. Since parents are masters of making sh*t up as they go, I’ve done just that with these made up words. Parenterms.
See what you think!
Sadly, there’s no ancient golden treasure hidden in this gross upholstered mobile temple of parenthood. “Yogurt… why did it have to be yogurt.”
This isn’t to make light of all of the awful, nasty -isms out there, this is to make heavy of the maddeningly illogical and pigheaded dislike a lot of kids have for any foods that had roots or leaves.
Parents know that they can often have memory issues, even if they can’t remember exactly how they even know this… uh… what was I saying? Something something… memory issues then… uh… whatever. Must not have been important.
Tick tock, tick tock. The clock is ticking for parents. Always. For something. Everything. Raising kids is a game show that starts with “hurry up” music playing, and it never stops.
Suuuuuuure, kiddo. Let’s all admit that the mind of a child isn’t a just blank canvas or a field filled with giggling unicorns. It can be a pretty weird place and result in some pretty disastrous things.
Some people experience buyer’s remorse as they are buying something. Sucked into the inescapable gravitational pull of the purchasing process, maybe they feel they’ll look like a moron or worse, a poor person, abandoning items in front of store clerks and their fellow shoppers. Always watching. Always judging.
They exist. Douchebaguettes. The B word is rough, and the C word is just wall-to-wall taboo, so parents have to look for a softer, more socially acceptable words. Especially if they’re kids are young enough that it could wind up being their first word. Yikes.
Parents know: you can lead a horse* to water**, but you can’t make them drink***.
Not everyone is handy just because they have hands, but when you become a dad, you may find yourself suddenly possessed of the desire to build stuff. Much like people are said to seem to be disturbingly possessed by an evil demon.
It’s like running a spellcheck on a document, but it’s your nose “smellchecking” clothes, and the typos smell like cheese (if there was a way you could make cheese from urine).