Nothing makes a woman feel complete quite like a spoonful of thick, creamy, drip-off-your-spoon chocolate. It’s gooey, it’s warm, and it’s great when used as a reward for good behavior with
Last night, I made the boys on my ski trip the suitable dessert of a make-your-own-sundae bar… in honor of them acting like helpless fucking five-year-olds the entire trip. You would think that years of living on their own would teach boys how to complete simple tasks such as going to the grocery store or doing the dishes. Apparently, most of them have been fooling us. The only fucking grocery store they know the layout of is McDonald’s.
Let’s prove this with a little anecdotal evidence from my ski trip:
Day 1: Boys asked to do dishes in exchange for girls cooking breakfast. Approximately half of the dirty dishes are loaded into the dishwasher. No one thinks to turn it on.
Day 2: Boys placed in time-out for lazy behavior, then given another chance. Dishwasher gets loaded with everything this time – including the dish towels. Then, it finally gets run… with Dawn soap.
I am starting to believe that single men must have tiny midget slaves stowed in their closets, ready to assist them with mundane tasks. It’s the only logical explanation for how they survive without a female around to babysit them 24/7. Fucking. Helpless.
So what were we ladies to do? How do we punish a man who has the extreme idiocy to put Dawn soap in the dishwasher and later that day, get rescued by ski patrol on a cliff full of rocks? Time-out is obviously too sophisticated a concept for this little piece of work. Nope, you need to fight five-year-old with five-year-old.
One saran-wrapped toilet later… I think they are starting to get the message. Help around the house, or pee on yourself. Your choice, boys.
But we can’t be so cruel all the time. Boys can only handle so much criticism before they cry in a corner. As such, we satiate them with hugs and hot fudge. Such simple creatures. So easy to please.