24 Lies Parents Tell Their Toddlers

1. Big kids don’t poop their pants. You have definitely pooped your pants on more than one occasion. You did it when you were pregnant. And during that marathon when you had a bad case of the runner’s trots. And that one Taco Tuesday you said “F**k you” to moderation and didn’t make it to the bathroom before the shitsunami hit.

2. We’re leaving now! Yeah, you’re leaving in however long it takes to pry his fingers off the monkey bars and drag his convulsing toddler body back to the car. Or:

3. OK, you can stay here, but I’m going home. You’re not going anywhere without your kid, but you really want to go home and binge on cookie dough ice cream and The Vampire Diaries, so you’re relying on good ol’ reverse psychology to get him in the car.

4. You can’t have dessert unless you eat your broccoli. Umm, actually, you can. Mom does it all the time.

5. We’re out of M&Ms. You hid them in an empty Wheat Thins box in the pantry and intend on inhaling them the moment your little tyke’s head hits the pillow.

6. You shouldn’t call people names. Yes, sometimes you should, like that jackass who didn’t hold the door open for you at the post office, or that twat waffle who just walked out of the bathroom stall you went to shit in and didn’t tell you she used the last of the toilet paper.

7. If you don’t brush your teeth, they’re going to fall out. They’re baby teeth. They’re going to fall out even if your kid’s the Bob Ross of tooth brushing.

8. Mama’s got a boo-boo. Mama needs a nap.

9. Daddy misses you! Mama needs a break. Or:

10. Mama needs a break. Mama needs a Valium. Or wine. Or both.

11. It’s broken. You took the batteries out. There’s only so much f**king Vtech you can take in a day.

12. It’s a popped animal balloon. It’s a condom. Although something may have been blown into it at one point.

13. It’s yucky. It’s Starbucks: a hot, steaming, deliciously creamy orgasm in a cardboard cup. (Moan. Sigh.)

14. It’s a milkshake! It’s a spinach smoothie.

15. It’s candy! It’s Tylenol.

16. It’s lemonade! It’s a laxative.

17. It’s just a little scratch! It’s gushing more blood than Mama when her vag is paintin’ the town red.

18. It’s a magic potion! It’s rubbing alcohol. And it’s going to sting like a bitch.

19. It’s just a tiny bugaboo! OMG, IT’S A F**KING COCKROACH, the sperm of Satan himself, sent to impregnate this world with evil and universal grotesqueness. And if you don’t all evacuate the house immediately, it’s going hunt you down with its repulsively long antennae and EAT YOUR SOULS.

20. Dora isn’t on right now. It’s not “on” because you didn’t flip the channel to Nick Jr. You’ve had your fill of anthropomorphic purple monkeys and kleptomaniacal foxes. Besides, you don’t want your kid watching when Dora finally gets busted for whatever hallucinogenic substances she’s toting around in that backpack of hers (the thing talks for Chrissakes; it’s clearly on something).

21. Mama doesn’t know where The Very Hungry Caterpillar is. It’s on top of the refrigerator. If you have to orate that shameless insect’s binging habits one more time, you’re going to follow suit. And you’ll look more “butter” than “butterfly” by the time you’re done.

22. You are driving Mama CRAZY! This implies that you’re not quite there yet. The truth is, you boarded the family-friendly minivan to Crazytown before your kid was even a week old, when he burped up in your mouth for the first time.

23. If you don’t stop (kicking, screaming, tugging on Mama’s nipples, etc.) by the count of three… Not sure if this really qualifies as a lie, because you never actually finish the sentence.

24. That’s it, I’m done! You are never done. The moment you squeezed that little twerp out of your lady bits, you signed a vaginal contract to put up with all of his twerpiness until he becomes an adult twerp. And you’ll likely still opt to put up with it then, because he may be a twerp, but he’s YOUR TWERP.

Honesty may be the best policy, but it’s not always a realistic option if you want to actually survive the toddler years.

© 2015 Samantha Wassel, as first published on Scary Mommy