I have good kids. Not perfect kids, but pretty good ones. They are both wiseacres and slobs (they come by these traits quite honestly) They do exceptionally well in school, they don’t hang out till all hours of the night, they don’t curse, do drugs, bring home babies or hit me. The police have never rang my doorbell because of them.
Of course they are only 14 years old and there is still time yet, but do you have to wish it on me?
What is wrong with you people? You’re all supposed to be my friends and family. What’s with this “can you top this” with your children’s bad behavior. NO-- I can’t top that! I don’t want to top that. Why is it that you are actually wishing for my children to top that?
I found myself looking for bad things to report. I just can’t compete with 14 year old Janine’s abortion or Nestor’s return from Spotford. I also found myself not mentioning the great things my two have done. Dad, did you know your granddaughter has not missed a day of school for the past 4 years and was in the honor roll for 14 of those 16 quaters? Bobby, did you know that your nephew was a National Geographic geography bee state finalist and got to go to Albany for a night?
Well I’ve had it! Fuck all ya’ll! My kids are great and I don’t care who knows it. So save up all of your rolled eyes and sucked teeth for the next time you see me 'cause I ain’t holding back.
Hee Hee! Biggirl’s kids are so good that she doesn’t even know they closed Spofford three years ago!
Seriously, though, I’ve met her kids. If I ever have kids of my own, I’m turning them over to Biggirl and she can send them back when they’re 18.
Wait. You’re not supposed to brag on your kids accomplishments?
That’s just fucked up.
I brag if my 14 year old daughter dresses appropriately without me yelling or my son picks up his toys without dire threats. Sheesh.
Spotford’s closed? Then where in the hell is my brother-in-law working now?
This is really a rant against myself. A few co-workers were discussing their kids math and reading scores today and I chimed in with my kids scores. One girl said “Oh, that’s pretty good for an inner-city school.” and instead of answering back “No, you nimrod suburbanite, that’s pretty good. Period. Statewide means state wide, but thanks for the left-handed compliment.” I lamely said “Yes, well, both my kids schools have enrichment programs.”
I went to my cubicle, fuming, thought about why I downplayed the scores and wrote my rant. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized it was me. I don’t talk about my kids. I fish in my brain for stupid or bad things they do. It’s me who fears the rolled eyes and the sucked teeth.
Arden, you can get your kids to pick up toys? I can barely get mine to pick their feet up when they walk. . .
There I go again. I’m a poopyhead.
Way I see it, you’re the one who should be playing “Can you top this?”
“My girl got on the honor roll for 14 out of 16 quarters, and never missed a day of school in that time, and my boy made it to the finals of the State Geography bee. Can your little cussing, drug smoking, baby-having brats top that?”
Practice saying it in your head a few times, and give the kids a hug for me. 
Manny, they reopened Spofford in 1999. It’s called Bridges Juvenile Center now, but it’s in the old building.
I thought the old Spofford was an intake center now – just transitional. No?
Good job on the kids, Biggirl. It’s sounds like you’re excelling at the toughest job I can think of.
That’s great, Biggirl- you said they were fourteen, are they twins? Congratulations on having two good kids. 
Hey, Biggirl, you want 2 more? 'Cause mine are coming up on their teenage years, and they’re fucked if I’m supposed to be the voice of reason.