The past couple of weeks have been trying ones. Connery is apparently trying to break some sort of stubbornness record, whereby he refuses to comply with every request made of him--even the entirely reasonable ones--and becomes a hero to toddlers everywhere.
I described the basic conflict in an email to a friend whose child is on the cusp of the so-called terrible twos this way:
Ah, yes. Autonomy. They want it. We don't want to give it. You know, we parents are so silly. Wouldn't life just be easier if we let our children run around pell-mell, naked and probably with knives, all the while jamming cookies and cat food into their little mouths? I should add that my child would in this scenario also be climbing atop the couch and then throwing himself off at full force, probably while peeing. Why do I deny him this fun?
Connery went to bed last night and I thought to myself, "Well, there goes another day of fucking stellar parenting on my part."
As a consequence, I find myself *not* thinking about dire current events and other important matters that may herald the coming of the apocalypse such as increasing tensions in the Middle East and the rise of Kevin Federline.
All of which is a very long-winded way, I suppose, of apologizing for the lack of hard-hitting political commentary lately. It's just not on the radar. Once I can get to the end of the day and NOT feel like industrial-strength tranquilizers are in order, I imagine that things will improve. How in the hell does Jay handle twins and still blog like a freakin' machine? I'm clearly not worthy.