Ya don't have to, Cry Babbbyyyyy, cry babbbyyyy, cry babbbyy, cause you always get watcha wa-aannt

Dear Mom in That Commercial with the Two Kids and the One Slice of Bread,

Come on; admit it, Mom in the Commerical. The youngest kid is your favorite. You toss and turn about this at night, but the results are always the same: Little Timmy is your favorite and Older Brother Billy is, well, is not. You can try to pretend, what with that smarmy smile you give Billy, while all the time Little Timmy is your pride and joy and all the world to you and more. You thought, “Little Timmy deserves.”

You don’t fool me one bit, Mom. There little Billy is. He sees there’s one slice of bread. He’s thinking, “Hmm, how can I make sure I get my due?” For after all, Big Brother Billy has been slighted time and again by his shitty little brother Little Timmy. Time and again, Big Brother Billy has watched as you, Mom, slather attention and praise and extra bits of food and toys on Little Timmy. And, wasn’t there that time you gave BeeBo the Tiger to Little Timmy? Even though Billy loved BeeBo the Tiger with all his heart? You had only said, “Now, Billy. You’re too old for BeeBo now. Let Little Timmy have him.” And off you’d gone, holding BeeBo the Tiger in your traitorous hand while Billy sat in his room all alone. And didn’t Big Brother Billy hear Little Timmy squeal with delight as he most assuredly hugged and hugged on BeeBo, especially since he’d whined for BeeBo the Tiger ever since Daddy Who Isn’t Around Anymore gave it to Big Brother Billy? And didn’t you get a secret wiggly little pleasure out of knowing you made Little Timmy slap hap happy and Big Brother Billy sad? Because, after all, and don’t you deny it! After all, doesn’t Big Brother Billy look exactly like your ex-husband the lying deceitful cheating bastard? And doesn’t Little Timmy look just like You? Huh Mom? I got your number!

So, there comes the one slice of bread and the jar of peanut butter. Mom is oh so sneaky, yes you are. Instead of letting your two kids battle it out Kid Style with Kid Justice; you insert yourself between them with intent to make sure Little Timmy comes out on top! So, you sneakily tell Big Brother Billy, “I’ve spread lots of gooey good stuff peanut butter on the slice of bread *wink wink* Now, Billy Bo Dilly, you can cut the slices into two pieces *wink wink*!”

The kitchen goes silent. Billy thinks (because he is still young and hasn’t yet figured out the slinky devious workings of Mom), “Wow! For once I get ahead! Mom’s on my side! This will make up for BeeBo the Tiger! Hahahahahaha!” So, he cuts the slice of peanut butter bread into two pieces, with one piece slightly larger—the larger will be Billy’s! yes! Mom winked at him; all is well. His tummy gurgles with anticipation.

But then, you Mom! You sneaky wench! You put on that snerkity smile, hiding behind your Mommyness, behind the “This will teach them about fairness!” when it has nothing to do with fairness and all to do with Prewshush Little Timmy, and you then say, “Now Timmy gets to choose!”

Oh! How Billy’s world must have tumbled on its head. Foiled, he was. Tricked! By the hand of his own Mom he was swindled. And Little Timmy, with his oh-so-innocent grin that belied the “Nya Nya Nya Nya Nya!” he sent in secret code to his Big Brother, of course reached out his grubby little hand and grabbed the bigger slice while you, YOU Mom, swooned with delight over your favorite child prevailing!

And there, Big Brother Billy took his smaller slice, bit into it, and smiled. He smiled the smile of one who knows this is how his life will forever be when it comes to Mom. But piteously, because he thinks Mom has just taught him about fairness, when instead, and we all know this, Mom, don’t we? When instead, Mom just make sure her favorite little son Timmy received his due as Favorite Son.

After the lights on the set go out, and Big Brother Billy wipes the peanut butter from his face and runs outside to play, you, Mom, will suddenly “find” more bread, won’t you? And while Billy is playing in the dirt, his tummy lacking, you’ll prepare Little Timmy another sandwich; won’t you, Mom? WON’T YOU!

So, in closing, just know that I am ON to you. I know your game. You aren’t fooling me one speck.

Signed,

Couch Sitter Uponer

(google image: http://slowwolf.files.wordpress.com/2009/03/spoiled-kid.jpg)