I have a huge problem with authority in any shape or form. From as far as back as I can remember. Tell me what to do and chances are it won’t open. I have rolled my eyes so far back so many times I literally have eyes in the back of my head. My dad even asked me once whether I was Rosemary’s child and was I in need an exorcist. I thought he said ‘exercise’ and so the sarcasm was lost on me.
I’m not sure if this little problem of mine can be attributed to my star sign (Taurus), my ego, my arrogance, genes or just plain petulance. Put it down to whatever you think it is and feel free to let me know. But do not tell me what you think it is. Persuade, suggest, sugar-coat (or sugar-jacket it like Gloria in Modern Family would say) but whatever you do DO NOT TELL ME!
Yet I take orders and instructions from a pint sized extremely bossy person all day. Every day. Happily. From the time the sun rises, to the time the moon smiles down us I am being told what to do. I have lost count of the number of orders given a day and I mention them in random order below, but this is a day in the life of an obedi-phobic:
Mama wake up. Mama go downstairs. Milk. Take milk. Dummy. Catch dummy. Mama call daddy. Mommy sit here. Put your legs up. Put your legs down. Kisses. Hug. Mom walk in the garden. Catch me. Run. Don’t catch me. No, don’t kiss me like that. Mama hold my hand. Lie down. Close your eyes. Sleep. Mommy get in the bath. Take off your jacket. Take off your shoes. Move over. Sit there. Sit here. Don’t sit. Put on my socks. Take my socks off. Put on my shoes. Take my shoes off. Get my blankie. Take my blankie, Put your phone down. Speak. Don’t speak. Find treasure. Sing. Clap your hands. Blow the balloon. Catch the balloon. Shake your head. Read. Read again. Paint. Play. Show me. Help me. Don’t help me. Don’t show me. I want Dorah. I want Boots. Mama catch the hadeda. Mama pat Chloe. Pat Binah. Pat Jagger. Pat Basco. Feed me. Bathtime. Out the bath. In the bath. Jarmies. Fetch daddy. Call daddy. Hug daddy. And the list goes on…I must just add that it is usually accompanied with a ‘please’ and a ‘thank you’ before you think I have a complete brat on my hands.
This got me to thinking how I can manage my obedi-phobia. And there are several options. One – I can work for an organization run and owned by short people. Two – I can see if there are any vacancies at Willy Wonka’s factory. Three – follow my dream and work with children
I’m also, while running around all day like a headless chicken, scheming how I can bottle the power that Emma has and use it for world domination!