Member-only story
Humor | Parenting
My Kid’s Friend Doesn’t Want to Play At Our House Anymore
It was all part of the plan
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The bang on the front door startles me.
Exhausted rage fuels my impressive detachment of my ass from the couch in one swift movement.
I look at my watch. It’s midnight.
It’s 7:30, but that’s midnight in Parent Time.
I don’t want to save the orphaned amoebas in Kazakhstan. I don’t want to upgrade my internet; I want to downgrade your existence on my porch. I don’t want to buy your stupid cookies — on second thought, they can leave those and scram.
…Leave a flyer in the mail. I don’t have cash. I’m gluten intolerant…
Did you know the little pukes take e-transfers now?
My index finger is twitching at the ready to point to our very clear “NO SOLICITING” decal on the door.
My pent-up aggression from an earlier Zoom meeting in which my boss and my colleague chewed up half the time comparing notes on how puppies are just like newborns though neither one of them knows what the hell they’re talking about swells inside of me like I’ve eaten too much cheese.
