A Call to Tired Arms by Thoughtful Pop

Topic: Exploitation

Brothers and sisters, we have suffered long enough!

We, the parental proletariat, entered into a covenant that was to be held sacred. We divorced ourselves from our freedoms and our livelihoods to contribute to the greater good. We threw down the goblet and took up the sippy cup all to serve our lineal lords. We bound ourselves to the Bjorn and hoisted the infantile nobility heavenwards so we too may see a higher ground.

Indeed, we did this of our own choosing. We did this, as well, in good faith with the notion that a measure of reciprocity on the part of our lords would be forthcoming. This contract, however, has been disregarded and our expectations, like so many a befouled diaper, have been cast aside.

We were once such a proud people. Standing firm in the knowledge that we had brightened our landscape with joy and affection and adoration – with new life! – we marched forward into the unknown. The new ruling class, cooing and wriggling their way into our hearts and souls, seemed to trumpet the onset of an era of collectivity and mutual benefit. The beacon of hope was bright.

Oh, how things do change.

As time passed, the nobility became aware both of their toes and the mighty saber of subjugation. While examining their newfound digits, they equally examined the many ways to exploit this loyal labor force that we represented. Biding their time with numerous yet unpredictable naps, intermittent booby and casual screaming this new ruling class furtively conscripted us into a life of infantile servitude. By the time their ambulation was begun, our path to serfdom was well trodden.

This ruling class, the Legoists, now control our every move. From dawn ‘til dusk (sometimes even ‘til 8:30) our tiny lords frolic while we cook their meals, wash their garments and wipe their entitled butts. Rights we as a people once thought inviolable are consistently dishonored – indeed, when was the last time any of us went to the bathroom alone? We need not mention here the hopelessness that is coupled with any attempt at a romantic connection.

And we call ourselves free.

The idle lives of the Legoists mock our very existence, coloring our days with the crayon of suppression and pooping indiscriminately on our liberty. We are reduced to wageless vassalage, watching as the short nobility recklessly appropriate the fruits of our labors and cast aside the vegetables that we so benevolently steam, bake and boil.

The time for change is upon us, brothers and sisters!

Too long now have we been shackled to the potty seats of tyranny. Too often are we subjected to despotic rants while our voices remain unheard and words unheeded. Too many days are we forced to labor unappreciated without hope of bread or bath. Too few are our moments of sanity, peace and unrestrained idleness.

We must band together under the banner emblazoned with our maxim and shout it to the highest high chair and the remotest swing set – “Christ, I’m tired!” We are parents, but are we not people, too? No longer must we allow our weary backs and dish-pan hands to be exploited by this short but vociferous ruling class.

Together we can earn the equality we so deserve and realize the egalitarian social order that we seek. We shall rise up in chorus and we shall be heard or time-outs and frowny faces will rain down from the heavens. Be assured this revolution will not be a painless one. Should tears be shed, should apple juice be hurled, our determination must be steeled. If we are pushed back by our miniature oppressors we must be prepared to declare ourselves disappointed in every last one of them and let the tantrums fall where they may. Damn the catapulted Lincoln Logs, today is…..

Aww, forget it….who are we kidding?

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Comments
8 Responses to “A Call to Tired Arms by Thoughtful Pop”
  1. Meka says:

    Fantastic Mitchell! I was up out of my seat and ready to picket outside of my house. “Equal Rights for the peons..we need sleep too!” Then an eerie sound came and shook me out of my delusion. “Mooooooommmm” You better keep writing these wonderful posts. They are my only hope for sanity!

    • Meka, we are so far from real sanity, but bound together we can at least save ourselves from the padded rooms and 24 hour supervision. Well, maybe not, but we ARE still in charge of the sharp objects. For now.

  2. Adam says:

    “intermittent booby” ….
    I finally have a name for Ari and I’s first band, thanks to you…

  3. David says:

    The identity, respect and appreciation you seek, or long for, will be forthcoming young father and child rearer; let me assure you. In only about 15 years. And only then after those unbelievably difficult and seemingly cruel early teenage girl years. It seems to be the way it is and we cannot much change it. We must endure it and know that it will come, as it has for all those who have come and done what we do, before us. I seriously doubted it myself in the early teen years and sought assurance from more experienced parents, and was assured it would happen; and thankfully it did, just in the nick of time and sanity. When it seems impossible, ask for assurance from we who have been there. The future offers salvation. It really does; and it is all very, very worth our efforts and sacrifice. The returns are immeasurable, and indeed, delightfully satisfying and worthwhile. Stay the course, young father.

    • Your assurances and support go far, good sir, in helping me hang onto my marbles, however elusive that grasp may sometimes seem.

      Thanks for taking the time, David. Your thoughts and efforts are appreciated.

  4. Jared Karol says:

    Brilliant stuff, Mitch. I see this being made into a book, maybe with a farm and animals – pigs and. . . wait, I think it may have already been written. . . The fact that it’s taken almost an entire day to get around to reading this post is testament to the words written within. . .

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