Thursday, January 23, 2014

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A Dad’s List of McDonald’s Hatred


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The below list has little to do with health or fair wages, but rather years of listening to my kids bitch about wanting to visit McDonalds every time we eat out, feeling them kick the front seat every time they are within view of a MacDonald’s, and the pain of stepping on jagged MacDonald’s toys in the night. I was indifferent towards MacDonald’s until I had kids. It’s funny how they change things. If you’d like to add to this list, please comment below.

Before Tristan could say more than a handful words, he could point at the McDonald’s Golden Arches, grunt, and cry because he wanted to go there. This seems wrong.

I often suspect that our McDonald’s toys are breeding.

Whenever we go to McDonald’s I find myself saying, “You need to eat your fries and nuggets before you can get your toy.” This statement makes me feel like a good parent. Like I’m making my kids eat a good meal. But honesty, how healthy is the meal I am forcing them to eat? I’m sure this is extreme, but sometimes it feels like I’m forcing them to smoke a cigarette.

The McDonald’s Play Place is always sticky. It kind of reminds me of the slime from Ghost Busters.

Tristan once ate at McDonald’s twice in one day. He ended up having three episodes of diarrhea. I’m not a doctor, but that seems wrong.

When I was a kid the McDonald’s ball pits always smelled like pee. And I once watched a naked drunk man jump into a McDonald’s ball pit (Before you label him a pervert, think about this: Which is more perverted... jumping into a ball pit while drunk and naked? Or watching a drunk and naked man jump into a ball pit?). I was going to try and swing this around to my mistrust of McDonald’s ball pits, but then I remembered that McDonald’s got rid of their pall pits. You win this round, McDonald’s!

I can’t always see what my kids are doing in the back seat. But what I can see is the aftermath of a trip to McDonald’s. It always looks like they ripped the stupid toy out of the box, dumped the fries and nuggets out into a pile, and then mashed them into the upholstery with their little shoes and little hands, laughing the whole time. Once I asked Tristan (my six-year-old) why he does this, and he said, “It’s not that nice of a car. I don’t know what the big deal is.” After that comment, it was a long time before he got McDonald’s again.

The McDonald’s $1 dollar coke makes my kidneys cry.

The shoe cubbies always smell like a mix of honey, BBQ sauce, feet, and meat.

I don’t trust clowns. Anyone that exaggerates the size of their feet has compensation issues.

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Clint Edwards is a tutor coordinator at Oregon State University. He is also the former co-host of the Weekly Reader on KMSU and a graduate of the MFA program at Minnesota State University. His writing has been listed as notable by Best American Essays, and has been published in The Huffington Post, and The Baltimore Review, and through The University of North Dakota, Boston College, Emerson College, The University of South Carolina, and Minnesota State University.