Child Abuse Entertainment

I've been seeing ads for the new movie based on the book Where The Wild Things Are.

I am willing to bet my life savings (yeah, I know, ha ha) that in twenty years, this is going to be the movie adults will remember as the freakiest movie they will have ever seen in their entire lives and they will be asking themselves "Why why WHY the HELL did my parents take me to see that horrifying movie?" It will be the equivalent of what H.R. Puffinstuff and the Banana Splits were to my generation. When I see the ads for this new movie it brings back my H.R. Puffinstuff PTSD and I have heart palpitations and want to cover my head and cry.

.... Jesus Christ

AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

President Logs

The kids and I were playing a game of Child Abuse Math tonite before bed (because the kids forced their skinny little arms into my hands and demanded it) and it got so silly. I've expanded the game to cover all the subjects instead of just math now, and one of Kira's questions was "Who was the president who freed the slaves" and then I proceeded to squeeze her arm harder and harder until she gave an answer. She was so excited (and probably distracted from the pain) that she yelled out "Abraham Lincoln Logs!" and we all started cracking up laughing.

Daily Beating

Pre-beating: Anxious

Does anyone else out there have kids who beg and plead for a beating? Both of my kids actually say the words, "Give me a beating!" They even negotiate for beatings: "If I get my homework done before dinner can I have a beating?" Sure!

Can it really be called abuse when they literally ask for it and are delighted when they get what they want? Who knew abuse was so subjective? In my own defense, I don't actually punch or kick. It's only open-handed slaps. (kidding! more of a wrestle-tickle roughhousing. [I would hate it if someone did it to me]) Today after school I had to beat Kira because she cleaned her room and made her bed. Then Sam saw that she was getting a beating, so he wanted one so I had to beat him too. Just because he's a good kid. I worked all day, I was tired! I just wanted to sit on the couch and look at Facebook for a while! But being a mom is hard work and you have to always remember that the child comes FIRST, and apparently a beaten child is a happy child.

But seriously, what does this mean for their future? Sam likes the daily beating, but Kira absolutely lives for it. She likes a pain challenge. She says, "Give me an snake bite!" (Indian burn, for those of you who grew up before racism was so out of style) So I give her the snake bite. Then she wants it harder. I end up curious to see how hard I can do it without her complaining about the pain. (FYI, it's hard enough where I'm concerned about ripping her tender little skin, and I get a little nauseous.) We've never reached her pain threshold. Thank goodness we're not into corporal punishment because it would be absolutely useless on her.

So I wonder where this love for pain will get her? Will she be a spy who can be captured and tortured and still not talk? Professional football player? Boxer? Madam at Ye Olde S&M shoppe? Social worker? Nah, not social worker. She can take physical pain with the best of them, but she can't take sadness. She watched the movie Skip about a boy and a dog and (spoiler alert!) the dog dies at the end after a happy and fulfilling and adventurous life. We were up for days talking about how sad it was that the dog died. She couldn't sleep thinking about it. So placing foster children would probably do her in. Sadness is her kryptonite. I'll stick with the loving, motherly snake bites.

Post-beating: Happy and content

Sure-fire cure for head lice

Today Mitch and I were talking about head lice and how it spreads at schools and how gross it is. We were talking about the treatment and all the cleaning you have to do in the house to get rid of them, and how harsh those shampoos are on tender little scalps so we decided that if our kids ever get it we would cut their hair super short to minimize the treatment time and chemical trauma to their bodies, and spend a week sterilizing the whole house so it doesn't come back. Then Mitch said, "...... decapitation would probably work too." Take that, lice bugs!

Child Abuse Academics

After the amazing success I had with Child Abuse Math, I have adapted the concept to other subjects for Kira and Sam. Kira is really lazy when it comes to handwriting, to the point where what she writes is totally illegible. So I told her to write everything like she has been kidnapped and what she's writing is a note that will let the authorities know where she is so she can be rescued. I say, "Remember, write like you're a hostage!" She says that's annoying, but her writing IS better. Also with her spelling, I give her practice spelling tests and use sentences like this; "Yanked... yanked... The child spelled the word wrong so the teacher yanked her hair out of her scalp." Kira really responds positively to violence. Sam just gets the giggles. Today in school during my LAST DAY OF STUDENT TEACHING (see previous post) the kids had to read about decompression sickness. The text was really dry and boring so I told them that if they were somehow immediately transferred to deep in the ocean the pressure would be so great that they would implode. They wanted to know what that meant so I told them that their bones would all break, their organs would be crushed, blood would ooze out of every orifice of their body, kind of like if you took a mouse and squeezed it in your fist. They were all totally engrossed and more attentive than when I told them anything else the entire month I was there. Kids are sick.

The new math

My kids and I invented a fun and educational new game we call Child Abuse Math. It's totally sick and they love it! It started with me holding Kira's hand and telling her that she had to tell me what three times two was. I wouldn't let go until she told me. She told me that if she gave the wrong answer I had to squeeze harder. (SHE told ME that)

She gave the wrong answer, I squeezed harder, she flinched and laughed and laughed and then gave the right answer. Sam heard the fun and wanted in on it. He literally shoved his skinny little forearm into my fist and said, "Give me one!" So I asked him to tell me what three cubed is. He said nine, I squeezed, both kids squealed with glee and pain and then he gave me the right answer.

Then I started making up word problems like, "If you have 28 teeth, and I give you a roundhouse kick to the face that knocks out 9, how many teeth do you have left?" They were in hysterics. What is wrong with these children! Then I asked Kira, "If you have 32 liters of blood, and I beat 8 liters out of you, how many liters of blood do you have left?" I thought she was going to pee her pants she was laughing so hard! I think I've stumbled onto something big here!