Brett Buckner: If Paris Hilton was a toddler - Anniston Star
Brett Buckner: If Paris Hilton was a toddler
Sep 18, 2011|40views||0
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Its like living with a tiny tyrant a pint-sized Imelda Marcos with fewer shoes Paris Hilton minus the paparazzi.The Diva is no longer The Diva. That tongue-in-cheek title has been wrestled away by Jellybean, who has become the most demanding cuss this side of Celebrity Rehab. The way she talks to her dear old dad is mean enough to make one of Cinderellas wicked stepsisters stop and take notice.
Heres the deal, Jellybean says, hands on hips, head snaking back and forth like an angry baby-momma on The Jerry Springer Show. You cannot leave the den again. If you leave the den, youre gonna be in big trouble and I wont let you come to my party. So sit right there on that couch and play with me when I tell you to. And color dont scribble when I tell you to. And if I want some apple juice, I want you to get it for me.
OK? OK now sit.
This is karma. Its some sort of cosmic, fortune-cookie payback for all the smart-aleck things I said to my mother, all the PE coaches I made swallow their whistles, all the substitute teachers I forced into early retirement. Jellybean has been sent here to punish me for past sins.
At some point, she went from a Cabbage Patch Kid, always ready with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, to a Garbage Pail Kid, who likes to accidentally sneeze in my face and then giggle until she forgets to breathe.
My Lovely Wife doesnt get such ill treatment. With just a look, My Lovely Wife commands respect. She has mastered that teachers one-eye glare, the kind Medusa used to turn mortal men to stone. With that stare, Jellybean is off to the bath, sitting on the potty, throwing away her yogurt wrapper or picking up her toys without so much as a syllable in protest.
I make the same demand and its usually met with a You do it. Or I asked for you to bring it to me, so you can throw it away. Or this is my favorite Im too tired.
I try the stare, but I just look like Im passing painful gas.
I have to plead for a please, and Jellybean is more apt to start speaking Swahili than saying thank you.
She yells. She stomps. She points when she wants something. If I dare to ignore her the way I turn my back on the dogs when theyre acting up, shes been known to grab my face, squeeze my cheeks together and talk to me like Im the 3-year-old.
After sneaking into our bed, Jellybean will roll over and whisper something like, Now, Im gonna let Momma hold me. If you wanna hold me, you cant, so dont ask. If you need to tell me something, you can, but make sure Im awake. And if I need something to drink, Ill tell you.
And thats it. Shell roll over with no more conscience than Ted Bundy for having maybe hurt my feelings with her harsh commands.
Im no pushover OK, so I kinda am. I punish. I take bedtime books away. I try really hard not to smile and thus encourage her diva-itude. But shes just so darn cute, talking like Donald Trump from the bathtub all covered in bubbles demanding to wear her Rapunzel nightshirt cause I feel pretty tonight.
Shell grow out of it.
Thats probably what Paris Hiltons parents thought.
Contact Brett Buckner at brettbuckner@ymail.com.
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