Thursday, March 26, 2015

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10 examples of why I’m the empty threat master

As a parent of three, I make a lot of crazy threats to get my kids to do things. Most of them are completely implausible and empty and it’s just a matter of time before my young children find out. Here are a few examples.

Threat: If you don’t go to bed now… there will be… serious consequences.

Reality: I’ve got nothing. I have used up all my threats and now I am using big empty words as a fear tactic.

Threat: If you don’t come right now I’m leaving you. I hope they feed you.

Reality: This isn’t the 80s. Leaving my child at Target would get me arrested and have me trending on Facebook.

Threat: Get your shoes on now or we are not going to the store.

Reality: If we don’t go to the store, I will not have any more diet soda. I need to keep from snapping, parking my minivan, and wandering into the woods.

Threat: Pack you’re your lunch now or you will be eating school lunch.

Reality: School lunch gives you diarrhea. That always ends well.

Threat: If you don’t get in the tub right now I’m sending you to bed.

Reality: Now I’ve created the stinky kid.

Threat: Get cleaning the living room or you will lose screens for the rest of the week.

Reality: Now I’ve taken away the one thing that keeps the kids distracted long enough for me to wash the dishes. Good call dipshit.

Threat: Pick up your toys or I’m throwing them all away!

Reality: Now I get to buy new toys.

Threat: Do your homework or I’m canceling your birthday party.

Reality: The cake, invitations, and presents have been paid for. I might as well blow a wad of cash out my ass.

Threat: If you don’t stop that then you will not be going to Jason’s birthday party.

Reality: There is no way I’m giving up two hours of free babysitting.

Threat: Better knock it off or I’m going to tell Ms. Kay.

Reality: That sounds like a great way to make us both look like dumb-asses.

Threat: Stop screaming or I’m going to stop the van and leave you on the side of the road.

Reality: That’s illegal.

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Clint Edwards was blessed with a charming and spitfire wife, a video game obsessed little boy, a snarky little girl in a Cinderella play dress, and an angry baby girl. When Clint was 9-years-old his father left. With no example of fatherhood, he had to learn how to be a father and husband through trial and error. His work has been featured in Good Morning America, The New York Times, The Washington Post, The Huffington Post, Scary Mommy, The Good Men Project, Fast Company, and elsewhere. He lives in Oregon. Follow him on Facebook and Twitter