Okay, I have to write a quick post today to voice my annoyance of the overuse of those child accomplishment bumper stickers that people put on their cars. You know, like My child is an honor student at Tiny Tater Tots Preschool for the Gifted and Barely Verbal. As if reinforcing the fact that you have no life because you have kids is cause for célèbre.
The ironic thing about this is just last Saturday I read a great blog post on The Waiting (one of my favorite funny blogs). The post is called Things I’d like to Retire and number four on that hit parade is Family Car Decals, like “Baby Onboard” or “I Break for Unicorns,” which I actually saw on a car while vacationing in Portland, OR. (Granted, this second one isn’t really a family decal except that you can BET some little girl going through a fairy princess phase convinced her defenseless—when it comes to his daughter—daddy to put it on the back of his Lincoln Navigator right above his Ron Paul for President bumper sticker.)
Then, as if the universe were trying to screw with my head, damned if I didn’t go out for bagels the very next morning and saw a bumper sticker on an old Ford Aerostar that read (I kid you not), My child is super duper pooper.
I just about rammed into the back of that mini-van while tailgating it to make sure I’d read that right.
This HAD to be a joke, right? Who the hell advertises when their kid takes a dump? I mean, come on, yes it’s a milestone when you get your child to do number two in the potty, but does the community really need to share in that accomplishment? I’m well into middle age now and let me tell you there are some days when THAT really IS an accomplishment for me, but I don’t take out ad space on a billboard or Tweet about it.
And here’s the REALLY ridiculous part of the story (as if the bumper sticker ALONE weren’t crazy enough). When I pulled up next to the Aerostar at a red light, there were two teenage boys in the backseat! So either this family was the coolest, hippest, drollest bunch this side of Daniel Tosh or else those boys were such painfully shy underachievers that Mom had to go to great lengths to boost their low self-esteem. Because honest to God, my teenagers would pry the bumper off with a crowbar before they’d let any of us ride around town in a car that advertised the quality of their bowel movements.
But given that we’ve become a society that rewards kids with trophies for merely playing on a team, I could see these bumper stickers going either way; inside joke or serious accolade. (And in this case, I wasn’t exactly sure.) If the latter, can you imagine what those boys are going to be like as adults? To be married to a guy who was rewarded by his mother for doing things as mundane as releasing bodily solids up until the time he left home?
Husband: Honey, look! I sharpened all the pencils in the house today! Oh wait, this one’s a pen…
Wife: Uh, yeah, that’s great. Did you remember to do the taxes?
Husband: Now how could I do the taxes without a sharp pencil? You always criticize me without acknowledging my accomplishments. I busted my ass to sharpen these pencils. Do you know how many things you can do with a sharp pencil?
Wife: I can think of one thing I’d like to do that involves your ass and a sharp pencil…
Given that we may have spawned a new generation of entitlement that must be acknowledged at every turn, maybe it’s time for some new bumper stickers. Whether it was meant in jest or not, My child is a super duper pooper made me laugh. So if you’re going to flaunt your child’s less than stellar activities at me while I’m forced to sit captive behind you in traffic, then by golly your efforts better put a smile on my face. Might I suggest you adorn your bumper with, My son’s sleeping with your A student? Or maybe something more timely like, Uninsured, unemployed college graduate onboard. Or my favorite, My adult child lives in my basement, but he’s not a serial killer.
Hmm. I’m getting some inspiration here. So if you’ll excuse me, I need to go start my own line of bumper stickers and greeting cards. Obviously, I’m missing my calling.
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Stacy Dymalski is a stand-up comic who gave up the glamorous life of coach travel, smokey comedy clubs, and heckling drunks for the glamourous life of raising kids (who happen to be bigger hecklers than the drunks). This blog is her new stage.
For more of Stacy’s comedy check out her hilarious book Confessions of a Band Geek Mom available in paperback and on Kindle on Amazon.com.