5 Reasons Why I Hate Your Kid (And 5 Ways You Can Fix It)

As your kid’s childcare provider, Barbara, I need to tell you something. I’m going to let you in on A Secret.

Your kid is an asshole, and I hate him.

[Pause for reaction. Feel free to leave scathing comments on my social media pages, once I actually get them up and running.]

No, seriously Chrissy. We need to talk about your kid, because frankly, you’re the enabler in this situation, and we, the childcare community as a collective whole (whether or not I actually decide to include myself in that category), are the ones suffering for it. Your family is suffering for it. The community at large is suffering for it. Society is suffering for it. My Facebook feed is suffering for it.

Actual footage of me yelling at you through the window as you leave your demonic kid with me for the next eight hours of my life.

And don’t get me wrong here. That’s not to say that your little Kharringtyn-Mckhynleigh (I wish I were making this shit up) doesn’t have her moments. Just today, my own personal hellion here known as Jairyd (seriously guys, not even I’m white enough to stomach this level of mayo) barreled up to me, a barely contained supernova-level ball of energy, and thrust his hand in my face.

(…I flinched…usually he only does that when he’s actually taking a swing at me.)

“M, look!” He cried instead, utterly enraptured by the sight of his own hand. “I have nails!”

And hey…he sure as shit did. God-knows-what underneath them, but nails nevertheless. It was like he’d never made that discovery before, and he simply could not wait to share the information with me, his primary source of social interaction during the day, surpassed only by you, Sharon, or his infant twin sisters, Mocha and Vanilla. He was excited, he was learning, and his eyes were all wide-eyed like a Pixar character in the denouement of a summer blockbuster.


Except — and here’s the truth you don’t want to face, Stephanie — these moments are so few and far between that when I do get them, I’m inspired to write an entire blog post about how fucking rare they are, and how sick of it I am.

Your kid sucks.

I can hear you arguing with me all the way across the Internet, so fear not! I have worked through many a sleep room to prepare some counter-arguments, just for you.