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How to terrorize children

My kids are all geniuses - at least that's what they tell me, their stupid father.

I am ignorant. I don't understand; I just don't get it.

Okay, so I'm dumb. But I'm still the parent and I take a deep, fulfilling joy from yanking my kid's chains. I love messing with their tiny, fertile brains. I love turning the tables on them and giving them a dose of their own twisted logic.

For example, my 13-year-old daughter sees nothing wrong with lying in bed and sending text messages back and forth until say, maybe, 4 a.m.

Our conversation went something like this:

"I'm sooooooooooo sleepy," little Miss Sore Thumbs said. "I'm tooooooo tired to go to school."

"Why are you so tired? You went to be at 9:30."

"Well I didn't go right to sleep. I laid in bed with my eyes open for a while."

Now, what she doesn't understand is that at 3 a.m. I was up, and I happened to see light under her door. Knowing her propensity to text at all hours I opened the door a tiny crack and witnessed the aforementioned texting in progress.

"So why couldn't you sleep?" I asked. "Something keeping you up?"

I watch her eyes roll back in her head; they slide left to right and then up and down. She's trying to figure out how to spin the the story of texting without actually telling a lie — I do give her credit for that.

I wait. The look on my face shows nothing but Grade-A Parental Stupidity.

"Ahhhh, people kept texting me and it kept me up."

I feign concern (I'm really good at this).

"That's terrible. All those horrible kids at your school kept pestering you until the wee hours of the morning. What a bunch of smucks. Why...I just can't believe that! Do you want me to call their parents and tell them their children are bothering you and keeping you from sleeping?"

Thirteen-year-old girl, thinking she's outsmarted me, smiles. "Oh no," she says. "I'll take care of it. Remember you tell me I have to solve some problems for myself?"

"Oh right."

"So I don't have to go to school today?" Her long, beautiful eye lashes flutter like a Monarch Butterfly.

"Well..." I pause for dramatic effect. "No. You should probably go. I mean you don't want those other smucks determining your educational future."

"But...but..."

"And maybe, next time, you should turn the phone off when you get in bed."

"But...but..."

"Because it's not good for 13-year-old girls to stay up until 4 a.m. texting their boyfriends. Ya' know?"

Her face crashes. She knows she's busted.

"But...how did you...? The question remains unasked.

I point to the back of my head. "Eyes, chickelet. Eyes."

"That's not fair," she whines.

"Too bad. Because God, the courts, and your mother all agree that I am your father, and that means no more texting until 4 a.m. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir."

"Oh, honey one more thing?"

"Yeah?"

"If I catch you doing it again, and then giving me some really lame-assed excuse, I'm breaking both your thumbs and then tossing your phone in Lake Hefner -- along with your broken fingers. Understand?"

Yes, freaking out your kids is one of the true joys of parenthood.

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