Dear Alexa, Are You My Mother?
Friday ‘gab’ time! This week, a letter to “Alexa”
Dear Alexa, Are You My Mother?
Dear, dear, Alexa… I’ve been thinking. You’re totally trying to ingratiate yourself into my home and I think it’s about time you start carrying your weight as a member of this household. Not to sound ungrateful, as I do love using your timer for Grey’s timeouts and my cooking, your ability to tell me the time and weather anywhere in the world (okay, for Portland, but still), and your random trivia that is either the easiest question ever or an Einstein related affair (you could really work on that btw), buuuut I think you could help me out in the discipline department. I mean, shit! I’m always the bad guy! I have a kid and a ‘huschild’, I could use a little fucking help around here! You’re a robot! You are far more polished, precise, and all knowing than my measly self! So c’mon! Step it up, girl!
When you hear the shouts and shrieks of a whiny little boy, how about a little scare tactic? “YOU BOOYYY!” (please speak this in a very maniacal, deep, and disturbing voice). “SIT DOWN AND ZIP IT NOW! NO ONE WANTS TO HEAR THIS CRAP!” I mean, he won’t even know where it’s coming from! But, shit! That’ll shut-him-the-fuck right up!
If the little man cries, can you not sooth him with a soft tune from your extensive music library? Can you not tell him words of comfort in the most soothing of female voices? If he won’t go to bed, can you not provide him a lullaby that will make him doze into a cloud of dreams? If he needs a friend, can you not put on some dance music or play a game with him? Two moms have got to be better than one! Should you do your job properly, he should say “are you my mother?” And you, in your lovingly, dreamingly, sweet, sweet angelic voice, shall reply, “yes, son, yes.” Frankly, woman, I feel like you’ve got the skills, the gumption to help a sister out!
Now that I’ve said my piece, I hope you’ll find my words well and start upping your fucking game.
