Letting The Computers Do The Parenting

If I had a dollar for every tweet, Facebook status, and blog post I have written and deleted in the two weeks that started with "OMG HEAD IMPLODEY OWWWWWWWW" I would have ... a heck of a lot of money. I will spare you the details of just how freakin' miserable the space inside my noggin has been lately, but the fact that my Number One Priority once we returned to Pittsburgh was to get to a doctor probably says a lot.

I don't do the doctor. I just don't.

Regardless, I shoved Alexis in the car early last Friday morning, did not pass Go, did not collect anything, I just drove straight to the doc in the box so that I could beg for drugs. Druuuuuugs gooooood. Dr. Google and I had already had a long consultation so I knew what was up. Sinus infection! Ear infection! All of the infections!

The only problem with my scheme to quickly and efficiently get drugs was that I had a short person to entertain. After a week at her grandparents house, HOOBOY did she need entertained. She had grown accustomed to having lots of cousins around all of the time and having the universe revolve around her.

That means she was used to asking questions and having someone answer them.

Ugh.

I spent years training the kid to not expect any sort of response when she talks to me. All of my hard work ignoring her! Gone! Destroyed! And at the worst possible time, thank you very much.

You just go ahead and sit there on your pedestal and judge away, but I could barely blink without wanting to scream. Fielding every question that an inquisitive 6-year old can come up with was PAINFUL. So I did what any lazy, miserable, creative parent would do and I handed her my iPhone.

"Here, ask Siri," I told her as I showed her how to turn on Zooey Deschanel's only friend.

A few minutes later I recognized my level of genius. The kid was asking my phone every question under the sun and happily reading the answers and SHE WAS LEAVING ME ALONE!

Seriously, it was pretty freakin' amazing. I imagine that in a few years, that's what homework is going to look like. Kids are going to ask computers a question and be directed to a web page and encyclopedia what? Our kids won't need no stinkin' encyclopedias (good thing, too, since they aren't going to be in print any more).

In the time it took for me to get a doctor to agree that Dr. Google and I were right, the kid had learned all about whether or not sharks eat people, she had researched the tallest statues in the world, and she had found out how to say "Hello" in five languages. All without any help from me.

Magic. That's what it was. Magic.

The best part is that now when she asks me questions that I don't want to answer like "Who is cuter, Justin Bieber or Zac Efron?" I can hand her Siri and wash my hands of that hotly contested issue.

Mark Brown Probably Doesn't Get This Lucky

Spending 10 hours in the car alone with my kid doesn't scare me. Figuring out which movies to load onto her Kindle Fire before spending 10 hours alone in the car with her does.

Here's the thing--if I get it right, I'm in for 10 hours of angels softly singing Kumbaya as Alexis happily stares at her tiny Kindle screen with a dazed and oblivious expression that is reserved for moments when she won't blink or move her lips for fear that I rip that Kindle out of her hands and force her to look for license plates from every state. She is silent, is what I'm saying. SILENT. For hours on end.

Do you know how much duct tape is required to make that happen when we're at home? A LOT.

If I get the movie selection wrong, however, I'm in for 10 hours of My Every Nightmare Come True. The kid will grow bored of the movie and start talking to me. "Why do boys have penises and girls don't?" "What's a 'Sandusky?'" and "Who do you think is cuter, Justin Bieber or Zac Efron?" are the sorts of things she will start rattling off in rapid-fire questioning mode. It's like being interrogated by the FBI, but without rules or boundaries or any sort of logic to the questions.

I can handle her interrogations most of the time, but I am not ashamed to admit that I'm not woman enough to take ten hours of it without having a total and complete mental collapse.

Before we drove down to Tennessee last week, I spent hours pouring over new movie options on Amazon. I needed something cheap, definitely age-appropriate, and GOOD. Captivating. Riveting. Brain-sucking. ALL OF THOSE THINGS.

Please keep in mind that Alexis thinks The Wiz is a good movie. Seriously. She loved that damn movie.

So, uh, her taste might be a little ... off. That makes it harder to predict what she will and won't like. It's all a game of Sanity Roulette.

I knew I had won the Sanity Roulette game before we crossed into Ohio. I hadn't heard the kid so much as blink. I happily rocked out to the latest Linkin Park as I drove and drove and drove with silence reigning supreme over the back seat.

I don't really know when the last time was that I had an hour and a half in the car to myself, but that's what it was. Alexis may have been sitting just a few feet away, but she didn't care about me or my music. She didn't even notice when a giant bird flew right into the side of the car inches from her head. It made a loud and horrifying THUNK when it struck, but she just kept on staring at the screen as I fought the urge to turn around and play nurse to the bird as it flapped around in the middle of the road.

Silence. Beautiful, beautiful silence.

Until suddenly the short person in the back seat shattered the silence by breaking into a round of applause and screaming, "I LOVE THAT MOVIE!"

Sounds adorable, right? Just picture how startling something like that can be when you don't know it's coming. I'm not really sure how I didn't pee my pants in that moment, to be honest.

Regardless, the kid watched the same movie ALL THE WAY to Tennessee. She made it all the way through four times, and each time I knew the movie was over because she hooted and hollered about how great it was.

The Princess Bride.

I've never seen it, but I guess it's time I gave in and saw what all of the fuss is about, eh?

Biscoff Puppy Chow

There is a right way to make Puppy Chow and then there is a way to make Puppy Chow that is so wrong that it's right.

You know about this stuff, right Internet?

If not, drop everything and run to the store RIGHT NOW. You need to try Biscoff Spread. Now. Pronto. Immediately. It's like peanut butter without any of the health benefits of peanut butter. It's basically Biscoff cookies and some terrible crap ground up together until they are the texture of peanut butter.

And it is DIVINE. I dare say it's even more heavenly Nutella.

YEAH. I SAID IT. I would absolutely break up with Nutella if it meant I could have more Biscoff Spread.

I've been toying with recipes that use Biscoff Spread lately mostly because you can never have enough ways to deliver it to your belly. This one is my favorite so far.

It's Puppy Chow, but it's made with Biscoff Spread instead of peanut butter and chocolate chips. It tastes exactly like you would expect ... FANTASTIC. And bonus! You'll look way classier eating the Biscoff Spread this way than you do when you shovel it in your face on a spoon!

It's OK to admit you do that, by the way. I think we all do. Ahem.

Biscoff Puppy Chow

9 cups Crispix cereal
1 cup Creamy Biscoff Spread
1/3 cup butter
1-1/2 cups powdered sugar

1. Place the Crispix in a large bowl.

2. Place the powdered sugar in a large paper bag (a brown grocery bag works perfectly).

3. Place the Biscoff Spread and butter in a microwave safe bowl. Heat for 30 seconds, or until the butter is melted. Stir to combine.

4. Pour the Biscoff mixture over the Crispix and stir gently until evenly coated. It doesn't need to cover every single bit of the cereal.

5. Carefully pour the cereal mixture into the paper bag, fold the top of the bag over two or three times until it's nice and closed up, and shake until the cereal is completely coated with powdered sugar.

6. Hide half of it from your family. Sharing is good, but what they don't know can't hurt you.