Poor little thing. Mom said no, apparently.

CONTINUED FROM PREVIOUS PAGE

The kid screamed. Then he wailed. Then he dropped on the floor just like in the cartoons, and began slamming his fists on the ground repeatedly. “I don’t have a desk! I have to have this desk!” This was all intermingled with actual tears starting to run down the kid’s face. “Mom, I hate you. You never get me anything nice! I have to have this desk!”

I watched the mother of this holy terror from hell, wondering what she would do. Was this normal in her life? Would she be mortified? Would she… Oh. There it was. Now it all made sense.

“If you’ll just get up and shut up, I’ll get you the stupid desk. You’re being ridiculous and embarrassing me.” She looked ready to pull her own hair out by the roots.

The kid leapt up from his tantrum position on the floor. He was instantly as happy as a bluejay smoking weed on the weekend. His tears miraculously and instantaneously dried up. He hugged his mom. “I just really want the desk.”

May I remind you that this kid was at least nine years old?

Gah.

BLRGHGHL.

Grrrr.

Once they had wandered off, and I was left to sit and stress over the hours of frustration I was destined to spend putting my new furniture together, and once I could actually make the difficult decision of add a cabinet door or don’t add a cabinet door… I couldn’t help but laugh to myself, because…

As annoying as what I had just witnesses was… It was funnier than anything I’d seen in a long time.

But not as funny as ten seconds later when I looked at my phone, realized it was much later than I thought, and battled my way through the IKEA maze, knowing I would have to return just two hours later and do it all again. Hopefully next time sans spoiled brat of the millennium.

Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing