The big thing for punishing kids these days isn't a thwack to the butt. It's a "time-out," which, if you ask me, is a pretty darn cushy way to spend five minutes.
Which is why I'm always shocked that my daughter treats time-outs like I'd sentenced her to lick the carpets clean. She'll scream and howl and moan, thrashing herself around the couch like I'm trying to murder her, as I sit there, hoping like hell our neighbors don't call the cops on me for murdering (what sounds like) a chicken.
I don't think my kid realizes how cushy she's got it. Because if I got five minutes alone? I'd make the MOST of it.
If I got five minutes alone, well, the world would be my oyster. I could:
Count the hairs on my legs.
Actually return emails.
Start a pants off, dance off.
Get caught up on my blog reading.
Think about mud-wrestling Cameron Diaz in a vat of baked beans.
Drink a bottle of vodka.
Mentally redecorate my living room.
Watch something besides cartoons.
Call a friend and talk without saying the phrase, "Who hit who?"
Consider the prospect of making something from Pinterest before deciding I'm not creative and I cannot stand homemade crafts.
Wondering which sadist STARTED Pinterest.
Unfriending all my Facebook friends who like to send me FarmVille requests.
Consider sending all my Facebook friends who like FarmVille to a real farm.
Ponder what "raised in a barn" means.
Study the back of my eyelids.
Paint my toenails, which haven't, in fact, been painted since 2001.
Wonder what various celebrities would look like if their heads were backwards.
Ascertain what, exactly, Kim Kardashian is actually famous for.
Learn to speak in text-speak.
See if my picture really is in Wikipedia under the word "Crotch."
What would YOU do if you were in a Mommy Time-Out?