Last night I read Quinn Conroy’s I Ate All Your Cookies (and other things you wish you could tell your kids). Here are a few choice excerpts to give you an idea of the irreverence and hilarity of it:
“I know exactly when you’re lying, but that doesn’t mean I always care.”
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you: You look really dumb when you cry.”
“The only thing worse than the sound of you singing is the sound of you singing in unison with others just like you.”
Someone finally gives voice to my inner-most thoughts. Ahhhhhhh. Feels good. This is a short gifty-type book. There is only 1 sentence per page. I don’t normally go in for that type of stuff but those sentences are pretty funny so if you’re looking for a funny Christmas gift for your girlfriends (read it out loud over lunch. . . with onion rings, preferably) or if you’d like to simultaneously frighten and crack someone up at their baby shower, this book is probably a good bet.
Read more about how this book pulls back the curtain on parenthood, after the jump.
I love anything that pulls back the curtain on parenthood. Raising kids makes you feel insecure sometimes. There will always be tender, heart-swelling moments. Those just happen. But you won’t have them all the time. And it’s during normal non-tender moments that you start to wonder—Am I the only person who doesn’t want to “gobble up” my baby? Does anyone else resent their napping toddler? Why are people Instgramming the heck out of this first-grade Christmas program—It’s insufferable! (Hypothetically.)
This book reassures you that you aren’t alone and you aren’t even a bad mom. Everyone has non-corny thoughts about their kids sometimes. It’s funny. And not all of us come equipped with automatic parenting abilities. We have to learn, which is why your first kid doesn’t count.
Anyway, it is our choices…that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.
Yes. Dumbledore said that. And it applies to parenthood as much as it applies to wizardry. You choose to clean up that blow out. You may not feel very generous or happy while you’re doing it, but you choose to clean it up anyway. I Ate All Your Cookies captures some less than magnanimous sentiments about parenthood. Read it, and soldier on.
Read more from me at Every Day I Write the Book