Dear Laney,
It's no secret to anyone who spends any time at our house that you're tough on your dad. To make him feel better, I tell him all the time that you're as mean to me as you are to him, but this is the very definition of a "little white lie." (Another example of a little white lie: When your dad tells me I don't waddle when I walk).
I've been puzzling over what I might be doing that your dad isn't. I mean, we both agree that you're basically a tiny lunatic, but why am I better at coping with that than your dad is?
And I think I've figured it out.
For twelve years, your dad served in the Navy, where people are rewarded, praised and promoted for being reasonable. Sure, this keeps our country safe and blah blah blah, but it's terrible preparation for having a toddler. By contrast, for twelve years, I worked in Los Angeles - two of those years at a talent agency, where I was an agent assistant. This was an environment where people were rewarded, praised and promoted for being Crazy. As. Hell. A girl I once fired for being too incompetent to operate a Xerox machine is now running a medium-sized cable network. True story. The people in charge threw tantrums, shouted verbal abuse and hurled phones at their underlings.
This, my friend, is the perfect preparation for parenting a two year-old.
Your honorary uncle Brian and I worked at this agency together, where he was the assistant to a man who was so famous for being bonkers that he served as the inspiration for an equally bonkers television character. I remember sitting near Brian as he was on the phone with his boss one afternoon. From ten feet away, I could hear his boss' screaming on the other end of the line. I remember Brian calmly repeating over and over:
What plane would you like to be on, Ari?
What plane would you like to be on, Ari?
What plane would you like to be on, Ari?
This came back to me like a bad flashback yesterday as you were screaming at me in the living room and I heard myself repeating:
Where would you like your chocolate milk, Laney?
Where would you like your chocolate milk, Laney?
Where would you like your chocolate milk, Laney?
The difference, of course, is that you don't generate millions in revenue for our house... so ixnay on the razy-cay.
Love,
Mom
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