I’m trying to teach my daughter to be lazy and impatient.
These skills may seem difficult to teach together, but I’ve devised a way to neatly combine them into one easy lesson, in the drive-thru pharmacy at Walgreens. That’s the ideal place to be shamefully impatient without ever having to get off your ass, or out of your car.
The drive-thru is superior to a classroom experience for two reasons. One is the unbeatable teacher to student ratio of 1:1. The second is the outstanding acoustics produced by the confined space of most vehicles. These noteworthy benefits allow the child to very clearly hear the pharmacist tell you through her Fisher-Price microphone that your prescription is still not ready. Equally important is the child’s ability to hear your irritated reply that you have already given them an additional 33 minutes to work it out, and this is completely unacceptable.
Not that I need a defense, but if I did, it would be as follows: I was sick. I felt like warm dookie, and I looked even worse. I didn’t want to come back later. I just wanted to get my antibiotics so they could hurry up and f*ck up my pH balance and give me a yeast infection.
I pulled away from the drive-thru window without a proper good-bye. This proves I got in the last word. The perception of power is important in any lesson. Then we parked and went inside to buy silly string.
There was one person in front of us when we got in line at the pharmacy to pay. I strategically chose that register instead of the one at the entrance because I wanted to discreetly snatch a pharmacy business card without the child noticing me behaving like a loser grown-up. I already had my hiding place planned for the call I would later make to inquire about the readiness of my order.
I was standing there (im)patiently when Anna asked, “are you about to handle this Mommy-style?”
Then she did a giggly would-be-gangster dance and said, “you know…Is Mama bear about to come out of her cave?”
I can explain. But not right now.
Before I could answer, the pharmacist leaned around the person in line and said, “Ms. Fakelastname, your order is ready. Our sincere apologies for the delay.”
Apparently she was concerned about the same mama-bear-charging-out-of-her-cave scenario.
Maybe something like this.
I thanked her and smiled brightly because I won.
This is irrefutable evidence that I’m on the right track. Being impatient and lazy is the key to getting what you really want out of life.
Tiger moms can suck it.
I’m a bear mom. Wussup.