I’m Not a Helicopter Parent, I’m a Surrogate Child!

"Look at that Thompson kid! A sweater vest?! That's not how you dress for competition!! He's yours Brittany! DOMINATE his sweater-vest-wearing butt!" (Image from whatsupshopper.com)

Perhaps you saw the article where the annual Easter Egg hunt in my town in Colorado has been cancelled due to the over-zealous behaviors of some of us parents.  According to the article, in recent years, some of us may have been jumping into the action before the official start of the hunt to make sure our kids got the most eggs.  We sealed our children’s supremacy by finding the eggs ourselves.  It’s a good idea if you really think about it.  I mean, kids have such short legs and they can be distracted by the glory of a Rocky Mountain spring.

You need to FOCUS Brittany!  F-O-C-U-S !!!

It goes without saying that most four-year olds just suck when it comes to competition.  Studies have shown that at that stage of development, children have yet to acquire a taste for the blood of their opponents.  Four-year olds are like…babies!  They need to grow up strong and they need to grow up fast.  Kindergarten is next year and if you’re already behind from going to that mediocre preschool at Mommy’s work, you can kiss the Ivy League schools good-bye.  Then what?!  No kid of mine is going to some damn state school!

Any parent worth their salt knows the only way for a child to ever become a winner, is to have their parents win for them!  Then, when they’re holding the trophy in their stubby little hands, and watching their parents glow with pride, they will begin to understand the joys of crushing their competition (You can assume the parents are glowing with pride, we might be glowing with perspiration from hip-checking that Thompson kid’s loser father into the hedge on the way to grab those two purple eggs).

With the Easter Egg hunting dominated, our happy family can head home to count the spoils of victory.  Sadly, there’s little rest for the victors, as young Brittany has show-and-share in preschool just two days later.  Mom and I are already arranging for Chinese acrobats, flame eaters and jugglers.  The Thompson kid’s parents brought in a live ostrich and the kids got to ride it.  If they think their little twerp is going to beat our Brittany into Princeton ..well…wait’ll they get a load of the show-and-share – that’s all I’m going to say about it.

We’ll see who’s on top when kindergarten starts.  This is war, Thompson.

11 thoughts on “I’m Not a Helicopter Parent, I’m a Surrogate Child!

  1. What I have found surprising about the kama kazi helicopter parents is that can be totally unaware of what they are doing. They think that it is simply the way things are and should be. Ooooooh, just gives me the shimmy shakes and my backbone quivers. Colbert just had a guy on who has written about “white” America. The upper ubber white rich cats have become so isolated from the real world, they are literally a class by themselves in a bubble. But, of course, they think they are “where it’s at”. Time for a revolution.

  2. You cannot imagine my disappointment when I saw my daughter Cassidy stop to pick up a dandelion thereby loosing her chance at many an egg on her first official hunt. Most eggs were scooped up by parents who seem to feel it only fair that they assist their children because they were just “babies” and the 5 year old had a much better advantage. I imagine they didn’t allow these “babies” to ingest things like jelly beans so who eats the treats inside these plastic eggs? Hmmmm, maybe the parents? And what kid do you know that has any interest in the real eggs that are sometimes used for the hunt? They usually end up in the potato salad that few eat because of the rainbow of egg dye that doesn’t look too appealing.
    Due to our experience on that day I didn’t find myself surprised when we made our first attempt at Trick-or-Treat that Halloween. After visiting just two houses Cassidy asked me “can we go home now?”

    1. I’ve got an upcoming piece on the state of the American parent and its possible ramifications on the future of this increasingly weird world. Needless to say, we’re doomed.

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