LINCOLN, INDIANA — He doesn’t give a fuck.
He doesn’t give a fuck what you want to get done today. He doesn’t give a fuck what you want to get done tomorrow. He doesn’t even give a fuck what you want to get done six months, or even six years from now. Suffice it to say, this toddler is one ornery motherfucker and the last thing he’ll ever care about is your agenda.
You want to get out of the house by noon today to get some shopping done? That’s cool. He’s more interested in throwing all of his toys, clothes, books, games, puzzles, pets, and your bras (all of them) into a pile in the middle of his room at about 11:58 am. So, you can just go ahead and adjust your estimated time of departure because he doesn’t give a fuck about it anyway. Frankly, you should consider yourself lucky if he doesn’t decide to whip off his training pants and take a huge shit all over those bras that you’re still digging through toys, books, games, and puzzles to find, so count your blessings.
He doesn’t know what you think you’re doing with your life, but he’s constantly learning about life and the world around him. If you think that leaves him with even a microscopic fraction of his attention to give to anything you want him to focus on, you’re naive as all get out and are just kidding yourself. He doesn’t give a fuck. This toddler standing in front of you, scream-singing half his ABC’s with spit and chewed up cracker flying everywhere? He doesn’t give a fuck.
That’s nice that you have an appointment with your new client later today. That’s really nice, for you. But if you think that’s going to inspire this toddler to be docile and easily cajoled into the car without a screaming tantrum because you left his favorite toy car in the house and none of the fifty other cars you grabbed for him to play with will calm him down, you are way, way, way up your own ass, Dad. This toddler is gangster as fuck. He’ll scream so loud for so long, seemingly without the need for a breath, that you’ll be forced to reschedule with your client, and may even strongly consider spiking your coffee…with some low grade heroin.
Hey, that’s a really cool piece of technology you have there. It looks expensive and fun! Wouldn’t it be neat to see what happens if you threw it down on the ground as hard as you could? This toddler thinks so. Oh, it cost a lot of money, did it? Cool. He’s going to throw it in the toilet instead, you know, to see if it floats or whatever. What’s that you say? You’d rather he not dunk your new phone in the toilet? Too bad, he doesn’t give a fuck, in it goes.
Maybe you think this toddler is an asshole; and you’re right. He is a total and complete fucking asshole. Of course, you made him, and you made him that way. So, really, who’s to blame here? Your genetics? Your own parents, who turned you into an asshole when you were a toddler? See how unfair it is to blame this toddler when it’s really your parents fault? Of course, your parents were probably turned into assholes by their parents, so in fact we’re talking about and dealing with a vicious cycle of assholery, and who’s to say at the end of the day whose fault it really is that your entire family are unrepentant sacks of shit?
Oh, there goes the toddler, drawing all over your freshly painted walls. But, not with his crayons, markers, or even his food. Your special little artist works in the medium of “his own shit, pulled lovingly from his diaper.” Sounds like you have a mess to clean up, so you should probably get on that, instead of reading all about this kid’s adventures in douchebaggery, because while you’re reading, that motherfucker’s already gotten himself into your makeup, and is preparing to put it on your dog.
Because this toddler doesn’t give a fuck.
Writer/comedian James Schlarmann is the founder of The Political Garbage Chute and his work has been featured on The Huffington Post. You can follow James on Facebook, Spotify, and Instagram, but not Twitter because Twitter is a cesspool.