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Monday, October 19, 2009

Umm, hello....where's the support, people??

Friday night I wound up babysitting for my godchild Tess, a brilliant, delightful child who is, unfortunately, overly coddled and pampered by her doting parents. I mean come on, she’s 22 months old, she should certainly be earning her keep by now. So I went over there determined to set things right and with the appropriate supplies in hand: the AbPlex machine to start hardening that mushy little tummy of hers, raw eggs and wheat germ to blend up a healthy shake, and of course some inspiring Soviet music that we could march along to briskly, getting at the heart of my training regimen. They're never too young to start these habits for excellence.

Thusly prepared, I had no idea that I would be confronted with the situation I was, a child marching only to the beat of her own selfish needs. Yes, it’s true. After striding briskly around the house several times, breathing deeply, I decide it’s time for Tessie’s dinner. We march into the kitchen and I sit her down, exhorting her to pull in that stomach to work on her core strength. Honestly, the girl is like a marshmallow, no core discipline whatsoever. Sigh. I then look in the frig to see what productive, useful foods await.

Me: Hmm, pomegranate pulp of some sort. What do you think, Tess?
Tess, shaking her head: No!
Me: Aha, yogurt! You want yogurt, don’t you Tess?
Tess, again shaking her head: No!
Me: Oh, I forgot to mention – it’s yogurt For The Cure. Yoplait and all that.
Tessie: No!
Me, stunned: Well. Well. I guess you don’t support finding the cure for breast cancer then, huh?
Tessie: No!
Me: Oh sure, it’s not like I wanted to live a long, healthy life anyway. But that’s okay! Yes, what YOU and your little pre-toddler self want for dinner is obviously more important than The Cancer. Even though the cure could be right in this little lid here.
Tessie: No!

Thus rebuffed, we finally settle on some oaties cereal and a Pop-Tart (“with fiber!”), neither of which contribute anything at ALL to the cure for cancer. Now, Tessie knows that her adored godmother is battling a life-threatening disease. (As an aside, many thanks to Tessie’s mom Motya for the gift in honor of Breast Cancer Month!) And I thought that by her ripe old age (22 months, mind you) she’d have a strong moral compass, be able to think about someone other than herself, to look at the big picture and put aside her selfish needs and wants for the good of others. Apparently not. I weep for the future of our country....

4 comments:

D said...

What a bitch. The child, not you.

the infertile breeder said...

Ya, she is a self-absorbed little wench. But in defense of Tessie's fitness, might I point out that she is in the 5th percentile for weight in her age group. We just have to convert the marshmallowy mass to muscle. The social conscience will come later.

t-odd said...

What a bitch. You, not the child.

the infertile breeder said...

Update: Tessie willingly ate some yogurt "for the cure" yesterday. There is hope for our nation, after all. Yay!