I can say no. I say no to those girls all the time. “Can I stay out past curfew again?” Heck no. “Do you want to watch this chick-flick with me?” The No must go on. “Do you want to hear this poem Travis wrote me?” Edgar Allen No.
I just happened to know that Mandy wouldn’t win that reality competition. Those people know what they want. And if there’s one thing Mandy won’t ever do, it’s give people what they want.
A short list of things Vanessa and I wanted from Mandy last week that we didn’t get:
• Clean dishes
• Folded laundry
• Gum from the store (she bought three copies of People, though. The same issue.)
• Her leaving the house in a skirt that wouldn’t make Pam Anderson blush
So this isn’t an issue of me being a bad bad cop. (Which, by the way, sounds like it would be a really cool movie with Charles Bronson circa 1968 in the lead role, with 1976 Farrah Fawcett added for spice.) It’s just an issue of me knowing my daughters well, which I should be praised for rather than getting a bunch of crap. Good Parenting 101: Know your enemy.
And by the way, I’m glad I dumped that kid’s phone right in front of his mother. I finally understand the true meaning of LOL.