The simple rules of life Don't Tell Me I Have To Go Organic 1. Men want to marry the most attractive woman they can. 2. Women want to marry the most recourse laden man they can. 3. Extrafamilial issues middle class mothers worry about should be ignored. 4. Interfamilial issues middle class mothers worry about must be addressed, at least by the husband. 5. Men argue about sports so they do not have to kill the person they are arguing with. "At the playground the other day, as I was helping my son into the sandbox, I heard another mom say: “You must worry so much about the sun since he’s so pale.” I smiled, handing my son his bucket, and replied, “Not really, I just slather him in sunscreen!” There was a pause during which my son poured a bucketful of sand into my sock and in the resulting stunned silence (both his and mine) the other mother remarked, rather sadly, “It’s just that sunscreen has so many chemicals. I almost worry more about them than about sunburns.” I stopped fiddling with the beach in my sock to look up at her. I had to check if she was serious. She was. So, in the interest of not upsetting a lunatic, I made a noncommittal sound, smiled vaguely and turned my attention to the leaf that had made its way into my son’s mouth. If he swallowed it, I found myself thinking crazily, at least it’s organic! It’s not like I haven’t encountered this woman before. Well not this specific woman, actually (we’d just met), but moms just like her. Moms who make their own sunscreen (I kid you not) because store-bought sunscreen is full of chemicals. Moms who inspect the labels of each item at the grocery store, not because their children have life-threatening allergies, but to make sure it’s organic. Moms who buy their child’s blankets and clothes from special stores that can trace each thread back to the sheep it came from to make sure they’re all natural. And do you know what all these moms have in common? A burning need to impose their beliefs on me." The cure for this is very simple, and works amazingly well. Repeat after me: Honey, if you need to believe in Unicorns fine but do not burden me with harebrained lackadaisically thought through ideas about why bees wax, Unicorn horn, red raspberry seeds, and cayenne pepper powder will protect your child from a sunburn, nuclear winter, global hot/warm/cold/windy/rainy/dry/ wet, tasty non- "organic" foods, necessary protein/amino acid, er, gluten laced bread, or any of the myriad other piles of warm steaming bovine nonsense that tips out of your mouth given half a chance. I like you, really, you're attractive, and simple, we have a place in the front hall where we could use a coat, and hat rack, are you available? Because beyond that I cannot fathom what I would need you around for, and I certainly would not listen to the gale force inanities spewing from your pie hole. So, on that note . . . By then she will have given me the upper middle class stare of horror, snapped round, scooped the kid, and pouted off. Exactly as planned. Better, she will never darken my door again. The problem is the desire to not rock the boat, the solution don't rock it, sink it with a full Mighty Mo 16" guns broadside. Wife has issued a very complicated rule concerning when I can use this response. Sadly, it curtails use in many situations. But we still have a few friends!
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