4

Them’s Fightin’ Words, Boy.

“Frankly, if Hillary Clinton were a man, I don’t think she’d get 5 percent of the vote,” Trump told a crowd gathered at Trump Tower in New York for his victory speech after the billionaire swept all five of Tuesday’s East Coast primaries.

“The only thing she’s got going is the woman’s card,” Trump added, in an extended attack on Clinton toward the end of his speech.

“And the beautiful thing is that woman don’t like her… And look at how well I did with women tonight.”

The “woman card.”

Bring it on, you short-fingered vulgarian.

0

Those “Ridiculous” Ethnic Names Are Just So Tricky

Donald Trump on John Kasich’s name:

“I don’t know how to pronounce his name — Kasich. It’s -i-c-h,” Trump said. “Every time I see it I say Kas-itch. But it’s pronounced Kas-ick.

“Can we ask him to change the spelling of his name? Are we allowed to do that? It’s so ridiculous,” Trump added, before moving on.

Thank you, Donald Drumpf, for clearing that up for us.

3

Ooh, Ooh! Pick Me, Pick Me!

From The Hill:

Former GOP presidential contender Rick Santorum says the race for his party’s nomination is “very wide open.”

“There’s still many races to go. It depends on how it all plays out,” Santorum, a former Pennsylvania senator, told reporters at the Capitol on Thrursday.

“If Donald Trump continues to do well and sort of stays on the path that he’s on, I think he’ll be the nominee,” he continued. “If he doesn’t, then things are gonna get complicated.”

Santorum also suggested that delegates could tap a nominee who isn’t currently in the race.

Santorum, who served in Congress from 1995-2007, said he was at the Capitol because he was “just trying to help a friend out with an issue … a little good Samaritan work.”

Isn’t he adorable? He still thinks he has a chance. Bless his heart.

5

Yes. Let’s Go Back to the “Good Old Days.”

From a Trump rally in Janesville, Wisconsin:

As Trump spoke, some listened. Peggy Sue Metz, 47, a trucking dispatcher from Rockton, Illinois, lamented not making it inside and being forced to share the sidewalk with the protesters, who she suspected, were raised with the values of unionized schoolteachers rather than those of their own parents. “It would be nice go back to the days when the father worked and could support five kids and the mother could stay home and raise the kids properly,” she said.

In other words, Donald Trump will make sure women stay pregnant and in the kitchen if he’s elected.

 

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5

The Case for a Little Benign Neglect

I came across this 2009 post of mine deep within the bowels of my blog’s archive. 

(Sorry for the colonic imagery.) 

I think it’s still relevant today, so…here you go.

AUGUST 24, 2009

By today’s standards for parenting, my entire generation shouldn’t have made it to adulthood.

lg_27helicoptersThe other day my daughter attended a “meet and greet” with the teachers at the private school my grand-kids attend.  She figured it would be the usual get-together where the teacher expounds upon the lesson plan for the year, the parent listens while politely munching on a cookie provided by the room mother, and then the teacher fields a few questions on mundane topics such as “can little Herkimer wear his orthodontic headgear in class.”

Instead, my daughter was taken aback by the grilling some of the mothers gave my grandson’s second grade teacher, Miss F., a young single gal with a bookish demeanor but, apparently, nerves of steel.

The intensity and depth of the questioning were quite surprising.

Sarah Palin was given more leeway by Katie Couric than the young Miss F. received from her inquisitors.

The climax of the interrogation arrived when one of the mothers said she wanted to personally deliver a Subway sandwich to her daughter every day for snack time.  (I will interject here that the kids in kindergarten through second grade get out of school at 12:15, so there is no actual lunch period.)

Our Miss F. maintained her cool while informing the mother that this was not an option.  She explained if the children want a snack, they must bring it with them from home.  Anything out of the norm would be disruptive to the class and interfere with the egalitarian atmosphere that the school was trying to project.

The mother wasn’t listening.  She pressed on by asking if she could just “hang it on the classroom doorknob” so as not to disturb anyone.  Miss F. wasn’t buying this either, but apparently it took some discussion before the case was closed.

When my daughter related this conversation to me, I raised my hands to shoulder level and made little fluttering motions with my fingers.

“What is that?” she asked.

“Helicopter parents” I said, to clarify that I wasn’t having a stroke or something.

She hadn’t heard that before, so I went on to explain the concept of parents who continuously hover over their kids, anticipating their every need.  These are parents who have completely invested themselves in their children, possibly setting up their kids for a rude awakening at some point when they discover the universe is not centered around them.

In the days since hearing of Miss F.’s inquisition, I’ve been reflecting upon my own upbringing.  Certainly my mother worried about things like me putting my eye out if I ran with scissors, but there wasn’t a lot of concern about many of the things that are taken for granted with child raising today.

We rode bikes everyday and didn’t wear protective helmets.  We wandered around the neighborhood and beyond all day and into the dusk, only returning home after hearing my father’s loud whistle from the front yard.

My mother used to put big gobs of Vicks Vapor Rub up our noses when we had colds.  If you actually read the directions, it emphatically says not to use it anywhere internally, only on the chest.  I should be dead right now.  But, if my mother had her way, she would have found a way to cure cancer with Vicks, she loved it so much.

My parents had a baby-blue Oldsmobile.  There were no seatbelts and the dashboard was solid metal.  We kids used to rattle around in the backseat and very often I would ride in what we called “the way back”, that spot that was sort of a ledge behind the backseat and below the rear window.  If there had been a quick deceleration, I would have been a projectile object.  No one gave it any thought.

I practiced a form of benign neglect with my own kids.  Yes, they wore seat belts, always.  (By that time we did have them, thankfully.)  But when it came to overseeing every little detail of their day, that I didn’t do.

Maybe this attitude of “live and let live” was a result of my mother always wanting to know what I was thinking.  It wasn’t out of concern for my well-being.  She just wanted to know what was going on in my little head at all times.  So perhaps allowing my kids to have some independence from the Thought Police resulted in my being more of a laissez-faire parent overall.

Yes, things have changed in this country since the 50’s and 60’s and not in good ways.  There are a lot more threats out there to children than there used to be.  But kids need room to grow into individuals and they can’t do it with Mom and Dad always fluttering overhead.

Be like my mother.  Send the kid to school with a warm tuna sandwich.

Now, that’s living dangerously.

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