2 Things That Never Bother Your Kids

How many of these do your kids not care about?

1. They Don’t Care If You Are Tired

Babies come flying out of the womb, or are forced out in my case, and they keep their terrified, exhausted parents awake all hours of the night.

Mommy or daddy might pass out while leaning against the side of the crib, or on the couch if they sit there for more than three minutes, because their sleep schedule is so jacked.

Does that baby care? Nope, not at all. But that’s kind of understandable, right? They aren’t supposed to care ’cause they’re babies.

Then the kids get older, and maybe they sleep through the night—that’s a big fat maybe.

But what happens if you catch one bad night of zzz’s because you stayed awake way too late watching TV or because you were up with a kid who’s fighting a fever?

Nothing. They don’t care. Because it’s business as usual. For them.

You might be standing in the kitchen dumping coffee into your eyeballs, but meanwhile, they’ll wonder why it’s taking so long for you to make breakfast. They still want to go for that 1-mile walk around the neighborhood. They still want their PB&J sandwiches with the crust cut off.

Don’t you just love how they pretend that wasn’t them keeping you up all night by standing at your bedside, two inches from your face, inducing a heart attack when they told you “quietly” that there was a woodpecker living in the attic and they need to sleep in your bed?

You’ll sleep when you’re dead.

2. They Don’t Care If You’re Dirty

Every time I wake up in the morning and try to talk myself into grabbing a quick shower before my day gets started (read: when the children wake up), I decide against it. Then I live to regret it. Because once my children are up, that becomes a nearly impossible task. At best, it’s a very non-private experience, because your children always have to come and find you when you’re in the bathroom because it’s the law.

I should learn from my mistakes, but inevitably, at 2 p.m., I’m either still in my pj’s looking and smelling like I just hiked through 29 miles of mountainous terrain, or I’m trying to shower in private. But the word “private” is relative; inevitably, at least one child will wander in, grimace at my naked body, and ask me why my stomach looks like that. They act like it’s not their fault that my belly looks like a deflated balloon, or like it wasn’t their choice to come into the bathroom to ask for Go-Gurt to begin with.

Do my kids care if I’m stinky? Nope. They still climb on me, sit on me, jump on me, or get two inches away from my face to ask me to turn on Netflix.

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