Finally…Omega Prime!

Hey y’all.  So it’s WELL into 2015 and I’m just now getting around to Omega Prime.  Recently, I’ve been seeing a lot of the Prime Family (good times).  Optimus comes over to train for football with The Destroyer, so I get to hang with Mama Prime and Omega.

This kid.  I’m pretty sure he’s like, thirty, but his body still thinks he’s nine.  He is so much his own person it’s frightening.  And I know it’s frightening because I have one of those and she terrifies me.   Because, seriously, what can you do with a kid you can’t brainwash into being the perfect human being you could never be?  Oh well, guess that’s why you have extras.  (Looking at you, Kid Sensation.)

Real talk, Omega Prime makes my day on a regular basis.  He always, ALWAYS checks out the oldest and most obscure books in the library.  Books that say stuff like, “One day people will even have computers in their homes,” and “Negro running back and hero O.J. Simpson”.  And he thoroughly enjoys them without giving one fig what anyone thinks.

He brought this toy out in public:

INAPPROPRIATE.
INAPPROPRIATE.

The other day I asked him if he’s gotten his stuff for school yet.  Now, most kids I know would give me a “not yet” or a “ My mom said we’re going this weekend.” Omega Prime looks me dead in the eye—while sitting right next to his mother, mind you—and says, “Nope.  Nothin’.”  And that was it. End of sentence, end of explanation. Like, “Nope.  My parents obviously don’t care about my education OR the state of my clothing and quite frankly it was a bit classless of you to bring it up.”  Welp, put me in my place, didn’t he? (Also, I happen to know the Primes care quite a bit about education.  Mama Prime is a teacher, for goodness’ sake.  She educates other people’s kids.  On purpose. And her kids don’t look like they wandered in from a hobo camp.  Again, looking at you, Kid Sensation.)

I’m pretty sure Omega’s mission in life is to make sure Optimus knows exactly what he thinks of everything he does and says.  While I know he looks up to his big brother, I have to admit: I’ve never seen anyone shake their head at one person so much.

He knows how to raise his eyebrows with impeccable comedic timing, like a freaking Marx brother.  And I doubt he even knows he’s doing it.

He said, and I quote, “They hate us cause they ain’t us.”  And meant it.

So, I’ve done what any parent would do.  I’ve conspired with Mama Prime to have Omega  marry Wondergirl.  That way I’ll have in-laws I like, gorgeous grandchildren, and get to benefit from their complete world domination.  I fully expect them to send their respective mothers on luxury cruises wearing lots of diamonds.  It’s the least they could do.

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I have a feeling…

So I have all kinds of weird quirks. But you already know this, because you’re a faithful reader of this blog. Well, you could at least fake it. That’s better.

Anyway, back to my weird quirks. One of them is that certain things make random parts of my body feel weird. Like touching velvet makes my teeth hurt. I don’t know why. Here are some more. Fascinating, I know.

Random fake hair. I used to see this a lot when I worked downtown, usually on Monday morning. People get in fights over the weekend and sometimes weave gets snatched out. I understand why it happens, but it still makes me feel funny.

Body part that feels funny: Stomach.

The guy down the street who brings his parrots out for a walk. I know parrots are supposed to be great pets and good company. Maybe his parrots need fresh air, I don’t know how parrot parenting (say that five times fast) works. But when you drive down the street and you see some parrots stone-cold chilling in the cut, it looks weird. Also, his windows are covered with aluminum foil.

Body part that feels funny: Eyes.

Peach fuzz. Peach fuzz feels funky. I can eat a peach that has been sliced and skinned, but I can’t take a bite out of a peach. I also like peaches in Bellini form.

Body part that feels funny: Tongue.

The Destroyer’s bedroom. Okay, so I’m totally a slacker mom when it comes to making my kids clean their rooms. Also, if I made them do it, then I’d have to clean my room, and I’m not really feeling that. But his room tends to be way gross. WAY. The times that I have to go in there and get stuff I have to put on shoes and a jacket (my homemade HAZMAT suit). It perpetually smells like Takis and boogers.

This is what ordinary humans who try to go in there become.  I have been exposed for years, so I'm immune.
This is what ordinary humans who try to go in there become. I have been exposed for years, so I’m immune.

A few months ago I ventured in there to get a towel for laundry and I thought I saw something move in the corner, but I’m not sure because I just screamed and ran out. I believe the towel is still there.

Body part that feels funny: Feet.

Tiny shorts in the little girls section. So I’m shopping with Wondergirl and we’re looking for stuff to transition to spring—t shirts, capris, etc. She holds up a pair of shorts and I told her that I only buy her underwear in packs. She laughed at me and said, “No, mom, I need shorts.” I told her she had better go find some then. “I like these shorts.” My brain still wasn’t making the connection between what was in her hands and shorts. My understanding was that shorts were garments that were meant to be worn outdoors. Apparently, my version of shorts is prehistoric. So Wondergirl doesn’t have any shorts.

Body part that feels funny: Chest. Head. Gut.

I don’t know. Am I the only one that gets these? Please share. Except for you, Big Man. I’d rather you didn’t.

Six is the good life.

After being here for two weeks for winter vacation with my kids and not going insane—well, more insane—I’ve decided that Kid Sensation is on to something: being six is awesome. It must be the best thing ever, because when you’re six you get away with crap that no one else in the house does, which is pretty cool. Also, he’s awfully cute, so that helps.

That being said, Kid Sensation is kind of weird. Again, we forgive him all the weird ish he does because he’s six. (Well, the Big Man doesn’t, but that’s because they’re the same person.) So. As I list the stuff that ol’ K.S. Does, some of it you’ll compare to a normal six-year-old. Don’t. It’ll give you a headache.

He gives himself the thumbs up. All the time, not matter how shoddy his work is. I’ve gone to his room after he’s “cleaned it” and told him his work was garbage and that I was going to write him up for it. He gave himself a thumbs up behind my back, like I didn’t know what I was talking about. I had to restrain myself from physically pushing his thumb down. If I went around giving myself the thumbs up, I’d be committed.

He refuses to pronounce things correctly. I try to teach him, but he doesn’t care. I already told you about “unpossible”. (Typing that made me mad all over again. Unpossible. Hmph.) He freaked out one day about having to change in the truck because people were going to see him “maked.” Not “naked”, “make-ed”. Then when I try to tell him the right way to say it, he tells me, “Never mind that.” He does that all the time, like he can’t be bothered with proper English. I swear, if I mispronounce a word and someone corrects me, I am instantly shamed into saying it correctly for the rest of my life.

He brought the Big Man’s shirt downstairs and stomped on it because he was upset with him. That only means something to a six-year-old. You try doing that with a straight face.

Kid Sensation talks mad crazy to his dad. And anyone who has met this man knows that this is risky, at best. But again, being six means not getting beat into paste for being disrespectful to a 350-lb powerlifter. Although, having to put his head down is apparently just as bad.

When you’re six, it’s okay to cry when someone calls you names. Like, Kid Sensation was crying about something and Wondergirl called him a crybaby (he is). He cried about that. If someone calls me names I’m supposed to do things like “be the bigger person” and “not let it get to me”.

Except much, much less stoic.
Kid Sensation. Except  K.S. is much, much less stoic.

He silently points at his food. I don’t even know.

Kid Sensation would rather watch the special features than the movie. We let him get away with this because it keeps him quiet. I’m grown, and if I did that me and the Big Man would probably get into it. He’d be all, “Can we just watch the bleeping movie?!” and I’d be all “No! I need to hear how Mark Ruffalo felt the day they approached him to play the Hulk! I need this!”

I don’t know. I mean, being a grown up ain’t all bad. You know, coffee addiction and such. But being six seems kind of great too.

Oh, and is your kid as weird as mine? No? Fine.

Random Tuesday, Part II

Hey guys!  Did you miss me?  YES, YOU DID.  Well, I missed you, so now you should feel bad.  Anyhoo, I have been wicked busy doing nothing, which means you were probably doing more important things than I was.

So how about some more random thoughts? Some of these were overheard between Wondergirl and Kid Sensation, so they are extra random.

Wondergirl:

Quit spraying it!  IT’S DEAD!  I have no clue what this was about because I was way too scared to go look.

Why are your pants making noise? Sit down, I can’t hear!  Geez, Wondergirl.  Let us wear corduroy in peace around here. By “us”, I mean me.  By “let” I mean “shut your pie-hole”.

Did I say you could sit by me?  No she didn’t.

She looks like a social worker named Pauline.  This is what I thought when I saw Wondergirl’s hilarious school picture. Okay, this is what I said out loud.

Kid Sensation:

AAAAAHHHH!  He turned on the vacuum by accident and got scared and ran.  So I had to go upstairs and turn it off.

Don’t talk to me!  Don’t see me!  He meant don’t look at me, but he ended up sounding like John Cena instead.

Because I’m American!  I don’t know why he shouted this.  I don’t even know if he was talking to anyone.

Me:

Chocolate Peppermint milkshake?  Darn you, Burgerville!

This is my house, I don’t have to wear a sweatshirt here, I can just turn the heat up.  I just came from my folks’ house, where you definitely have to wear a sweatshirt because my dad is Mr. Freeze.

This guy.  With chips and a beer.
This guy. With chips and a beer.

I can’t believe I just watched that.  I couldn’t sleep, so I watched a movie starring DMX.   I repeat, starring DMX.

So is it MY turn to run up the stairs screaming at the top of my lungs? No, cause if I do it, then people start throwing words around like “breakdown” and “crazy”.

I can’t have anything! Looking at the demolition derby that is my house through the blur of tears of self-pity.

I forgot how funny the old Looney Tunes are!  And racist, don’t forget racist.

This book is terrible.  I read the whole thing, though, and by the time I got to the end, it was still terrible.

I think that’s it.  You guys, 2014 had been pretty great with you.  I will be back in 2015 with a new feature starring Optimus Prime’s brother, Omega Prime.  Mama Prime knows what I’m talking about (ooooh, I’m so cryptic…)

Bye ya’ll!  See you next year!

Just plain weekend.

I have to admit, I sometimes feel that everyone is having a better weekend than I am.  So I documented my weekend and realized that they probably are.  But that’s okay, because mine wasn’t half bad. Here it is:

Go to the farmer’s market with your six-year-old. It is so nice to go with someone who doesn’t have any time constraints or an agenda. Kid Sensation was cool to wander with me, sample food, be the only one dancing to the live band, and tip the violinist. Although, apparently balloon animals are okay, but the prospect of getting paint on his face on purpose is terrifying and definitely not okay.

Throw the football with with your twelve year old. Ask him what him and his friends talk about at school. When you suggest boobs, he will emphatically tell you not boobs. Which probably means boobs. You will also find out that his friend, Optimus Prime is a serial dater but that The Destroyer has incredibly high standards for someone who still loses arguments to his six-year-old brother. And who smells like old hummus by the end of the day.

Go boot shopping with your ten-year-old. She will be picky. You will be impatient if you are the Big Man and feel like you should be at home watching football—but you promised. She will hug her Daddy and you will be caught smiling.

Fight with your six-year-old. He will have stayed up late to sneak-watch Frozen, so he won’t be on one, he’ll be on all of them. The final showdown will come at 1 p.m., right as you’ve arrived to your Sunday meeting, where he will melt down as you try to tuck his shirt in in an effort to avoid someone thinking you just brought some random homeless Ewok with you. (He also needs a haircut.) You decide it’s time to go nuclear and call in the Big Man. Kid Sensation is taken out for a few minutes, comes back tearstained and chastened, and instantly falls asleep.

ewok

Have cramps and be cranky and mean.

Eat chips and dip. Feel better. Have a mimosa. Feel even better.

Have your kids make dinner under your direction. Wonder if The Destroyer’s spaghetti is better than yours. No one says it isn’t. Have hurt feelings.

Watch Peyton Manning break Brett Favre’s record. Realize again how cool it is watching history being made with kids.

Pray and be thankful for everything and everyone you have.

They also smell.

I just read an article about if it’s okay to call kids jerks.

Real talk, you guys, I didn’t know people didn’t call kids jerks.

Because kids.  Are.  Jerks.

Now, I’m not suggesting that people call kids jerks out loud to their faces. (Even though I do.  All three of my kids are old enough to know when they’re being jerks.) What I’m saying is that kids do stuff that jerks do. Stuff that would make adults unfriend or unfollow or whatever it is people do these days.

Like:

1.)  Correct your speech.  I hate this. You know why?  It’s not like they’re correcting your grammar or anything–they’re correcting you about crap that is completely irrelevant. Kid Sensation is good for it.  I was talking to Kid Sensation about a dvd we got from the library.  “Make sure you have that Blue’s Clues dvd in the case.”  He says, “You mean, Blue’s room.”  Listen, pal, I don’t give a flying fish stick what it’s called, just make sure it’s in the case so we don’t have to pay for it!  Or the time I told him that something he wanted to do was impossible.  He says, “You mean unpossible”.  No, I didn’t, because I can’t mean something that isn’t a word.  That is jerk stuff, right there.

2.) Question you.  I don’t mean ask questions.  I mean question me–two totally different things. When I give specific instructions, I don’t need to hear “why do I have to do it that way? It’s just as good if I do it the sloppy way I want to do it that is destined to fail”.  I obviously have reasons for telling you how to do something a certain way, or maybe I don’t.  Point is, you live here rent-free and you are wearing clothes that I didn’t steal off a bum as well as horrendously overpriced shoes.  If I want the towels folded into thirds, so be it.

3.) Ignore you.  This is grade-A jerk stuff because you know for a fact that they can hear you.  Kid Sensation is also really good at this.  The other day, I asked him to clean up all his Thomas crap.  Nothing.  So I repeated my request.  He didn’t even turn his head.  I raised my voice a bit (a lot) to make sure he could hear me.  Bupkis. So then I said, almost whispering, “Guess I’m gonna have to eat this ice cream all by myself.”  Guess what?  I get, “Ice cream? What ice cream?”  Uh huh.   “No ice cream, I already ate it by myself. Now pick up your Thomas crap.”  Take that, jerk.

4.)Try to go over your head.  This right here is so infuriating, I can’t even.  When I say no, going to the Big Man to plead your case isn’t going to work.  Odds are, he’s going to tell you to ask your mother, anyway.  Oh and being extra sweet and sitting on his lap won’t work either, Wondergirl.  I’ve tried that.

5.) Ask you the same thing repeatedly.  This is going nuclear in the jerk-being department in my book.  I will, never, ever, ever in this life change the answer to a question just because you ask me 546,687 times.  If I said no then,  I promise I will say no the 546,688th time. I guaran-freaking-tee it.

And then I do this.
And then I do this.

I don’t know.  Like I said, my parenting skills are iffy, at best.  What about those of you that are good parents?  Are your kids jerks?

Random Thoughts Thursday

I decided to treat ya’ll to another visit to the wonderful world inside my head.

Because you enjoyed it so much last time.  YES YOU DID.

“I guess being dead won’t work either.”  I tried not to respond to the kids pleas for some motherly attention and played possum with my eyes closed.  Kid Sensation stone-cold walks over to me, lifts up my right eyelid, and screams “MOM!” right in my face.

“Oooooh!  I have a Honeycrisp in the fridge.  Imma eat that!”  Pretty exciting, if you ask me.

“I guess it’s time to ram the doors with my truck.”  The Destroyer was fifteen minutes late coming out of football practice and the school doors were locked.  I had to figure out a way to save him (and then kill him if nothing serious had happened). Ramming things with my truck is always the solution.

“Do I separate them or let them work it out?”  Trick question–I had no intentions of doing either.  I just parked them in front of a violent cartoon so they’ll both shut up for thirty minutes.  I’m such a good mom.

Because this is EXACTLY the kind of things Wondergirl needs to see.
Because this is EXACTLY the kind of thing Wondergirl needs to see.

“You stay in that corner, spider, and I will stay in this one.  That way we’ll both lead long, happy lives.”  She didn’t listen, though, and I really didn’t want to fight her. I only talk tough.  I went into the other room–no one wants a spider in their afro.

“That was bad.”  I thought that about a lot of things today.  I think that about a lot of things a lot of the time–a solid fifty percent of which are things I have done.

“I am so trifling.”  I was playing Farm Saga instead of cleaning the kitchen.

“Matching socks?  Who cares about having matching socks?  Ebola is real in these streets!…is what I’ll say.”  Have I mentioned that I hate laundry?

“You lose, cat.”  I had a staring contest with the neighbor’s cat through the window.  He thinks he’s better than me.  I showed him.

“If I take two samples of the same item at Costco, is that stealing?”  Now that I think about it, probably not.  Also, I’m a fatty, and everyone expects a fatty to take two samples.  I can’t let them down.

“Those are for douchebags.”  I’m not sure what this was about.  Oh, wait.  It was one of those bikes that goes over your shoulders and you have to run.  I saw one of these in real life.  It was pretty douchetastic.

“How dare you?”  After pretty much everything that comes out of Kid Sensation’s mouth. I mean, he says stuff like “Never mind that” and “You meant to say…”  How dare he?

“Where does he think he’s going?1?”  I thought Kid Sensation was getting into someone else’s car and panicked.  Turns out it was Gustavo, his classmate.  Again, I’m pretty much Mom of the Year over here.

“I know!  A tangerine!”  Trying to think up what to have for snack.

“Buzz all you want, dryer.  Those clothes will stay in there until no one has underwear.”  Not true.  Just until I have no underwear.

“NO!  No more Gerald and Piggie!”  Seriously, no more Gerald and Piggie.

I know I’m not the only one with random thoughts–gimme some of yours.

Tuesday Musings

So I was kinda bored today and I decided to keep track of my random thoughts.  Although, upon reading them back to myself, this may be a horrible idea.  Dah well, I got nothing else going on. Keep in mind this is the stuff that doesn’t make it out of my mouth–which isn’t much.  Enjoy:

I hate Adam Levine.  There, I said it.

They’re all gonna pay. ( I have no idea what this was about.)

I should fill up the kids pool, play in it, and let all the water out before they get home.  They won’t be able to prove a thing.

You know what, I didn’t make this mess, and I refuse to clean it up.

I am having a really good butt day.  (Twerks in the mirror.)

We should make dinner together tonight.  The kids will like that.

I JUST washed a bunch of his socks.  Where the green beans did they go?

At first I thought this was kinda funny.  Now I find the idea of sentient hobo socks a bit terrifying.
At first I thought this was kinda funny. Now I find the idea of sentient hobo socks a bit terrifying.

Oh wow! Viola Davis looks amazing.  (She’s on the cover of Essence.)

Somebody shut that dog up. (It was our dog.)

I should really vacuum now.  Or maybe in a few minutes. 

(Looking at the neighbor) Where is she going–zomygod I forgot about the kids!

JAYSUS that’s an ugly dog. I mean, GOOD LORD somebody get that thing off the streets.

I’m raising a genius! (About the Destroyer.)

I’m raising an idiot! (Again, about The Destroyer)

Can you not tell from my one-word answers that I don’t want to talk right now?

NOW who’s screaming?

I am surrounded by idi–oh wait, that was my bad. 

Kid Sensation is making weird noises in the other room.  Best not to get involved.

What are you lookin at? (To the dog.  He then comes and licks my face.  He knows I can’t stand him; yet he refuses to care.)

I am ash-shee. (But the lotion is upstairs. The olive oil is down here though…)

Did both knees just crack when I stood up?

Taraji P. Henson irritates me.  Oh no, will they let me stay Black?

What is Kid Sensation running from?  Best not to get involved.

Why should I be the one to drive away and never come back? They should be the ones to go! (I don’t really think this.  Most of the time.)

Why am I poor?  (Looking at boots for fall.)

Oh yeah, Big Man?  Well If I was like my mother, my house would be clean.

I heard a crash and a lot of shushing and whispered apologies.  I should stay out of it.

This was all by four p.m.  You guys, I may need to see a professional.

 

 

Idle threats.

So I admit, I believe in spanking. It happens very seldom, though, reserved for things like running in the parking lot or telling me I’m fat. I do love an idle threat, though. I am forever threatening my kids with the beating of their lives that they know will never happen. They laugh at me. Hysterically. Well, all except Kid Sensation; he ignores me 75% of the time. I have actually gotten pretty creative with my threats.

Some of my greatest hits (ßsee what I did there? I’m funny) include:

“Do it again and I’ll slap your hair straight!”

“You’re going to make me feel like messing you up!”

“Hey, you, let’s fight. Them’s fightin’ words.” (Courtesy of the Simpsons.)

“If I have to get up from here, everyone’s gonna get it!”

“Do you want it from my slappin’ hand or my other slappin’ hand?”

“You must want to wear handprints.”

“Oh, since you said that, I take it you’re ready to rumble.”

“If I wasn’t over here, I’d ruin you.”

“Come over here so I can ruin you.”

“Say it again so I can slap the words out of your mouth.”

“Oh, yeah, come over here and say that while I step on your foot.” (This one sent Wondergirl into a fit of the giggles. My feelings were slightly hurt.)

“Mom SMASH!”

“It’s clobberin’ time!” (Then I had to explain to them what it meant to clobber someone and it took all the fun out of it.)

Like this, except with an amazing afro.
Like this, except with an amazing afro.

“What time is it? Time to kick some 12-year-old-butt, that’s what time it is!”

“You talkin’ to me? Boy, I’ll Jackie Chan you!” (Interchangeable with Chuck Norris and JCVD.)

“You wanna talk crazy to the Mom? Well, the Mom says this….” (This actually scared them a little, as they weren’t familiar with the Rock’s lingo and I was speaking of myself in the third person.)

“Don’t make me….” (This sentence ends in a variety of ways.)

“I’ll slap you over to Grandma’s house.” (She’d just make me come pick them up, and everyone knows I don’t feel like doing that.)

“You like CDs? Well see these fists!” (Actually, that one didn’t work because they don’t like CDs, only mp3’s and “mp3 these fists” makes no sense.)

They know it’s all in good fun, my actual punishments are quite sadistic. Like the time I made The Destroyer and Wondergirl clean each other’s room for fighting. For a week. Or when The Destroyer had to be Wondergirl’s servant for three hours after he said something mean to her—she absolutely relished it and contrived some of the most menial tasks possible, like fanning her nails dry. It was awesome, and it worked.

But they still enjoy my threats of bodily harm. They might be as off as their mother.

Do you randomly threaten? Or are you a good parent? (If you are, you can’t sit with us.)

 

 

 

 

 

Is it because they’re cute?

I often watch my kids and their interactions in amazement. You know how they say “kids are cruel”? I think it’s because kids under a certain age are brutally honest. The other day I had the privilege to observe Kid Sensation and his peers at the new library play area. I have to say, not only are kids dead honest, other kids handle this honesty quite well.

I saw a little boy who was contentedly playing alone with some blocks. Another boy came to join in the block fun. The first boy stares at the other kid, sighs heavily and gets up to go somewhere else. Now, a stare, a sigh, and bodily self-removal only mean one thing: I don’t really want you anywhere near me, but since I can’t ask you to leave, I’ll go instead. To me, this is even ruder (ruder? Is that a word? Well, there’s no squiggly red line, so I guess it is) than being asked to leave. This is basically being told that you stink. As a grown woman, I would fight someone who did this to me—they obviously just told the world that I stink. I feel very strongly about that because I don’t stink. The kid who must have stunk didn’t seem to take this too badly, though.

I saw a little girl horde baby dolls. I mean, chickie-poo wasn’t letting anyone touch the babies because everyone else had germs. Those were her words. “Don’t touch the babies cause you have germs.” The funny thing is, I am pretty sure I know who this girls turns out to be. She’s the mom that begs for playdate that turn out to be absolutely zero fun because no one can get dusty or touch anything. Notice I didn’t even say dirty. The girl managed to remain un-beat-up, and other little girls kept approaching her. It probably won’t be until middle school that people start to avoid her like the plague.

My kid, my innocent darling Kid Sensation, shooed another child. Like, he said the word, “Shoo!” to someone else. I swear to god, if another adult, (besides my mama and Grandma of course) said shoo to me, I would lose it. Shoo? SHOO? Like I’m some sort of fly with poop-covered feet? No dice. However, Kid Sensation remained unscathed. 

Well, maybe if I was this fly.
Well, maybe if I was this fly.

One little girl told another girl that her hair was ugly. The other little girl shrugged and moved on with her life. This is not something I would have been physically capable of. If another grown woman had decided to straight up tell me that my hair was ugly without the usual dancing around the subject (you know, the “ Ooooohhh, you got your hair cut. It’s, um, different.” Or, “that color? Humph. Well if you like it…) there would have been no further words exchanged. It would be all “Eyewitness reports say that the suspect, Vida, somehow turned into a wolverine and ripped the offender to shreds. Reports say that the suspect keeps muttering the phrase, ‘They told me Tuscan Honey would look good on me. They told me Tuscan Honey would look good on me’”.

When do we lose the capability to be so honest and accept such honesty in return? Are kids better people than adults? Maybe. But they don’t pay bills or have jobs or do laundry, so maybe not.