Who says I can’t write a good mystery?
Call me the Tom Brokaw, the Shepard Smith of our household, but I take my reporting duties very seriously. As soon as I can get their dad alone, I lay out the day’s mischief and mayhem, pleading once again that we do a switcharoo (“you work here, I’ll work there”). So far, talks have been as productive as the ongoing stalemate on The Hill, closed doors notwithstanding.
Oh, and speaking of that debt crisis, I’ll say it again even though I’m getting hoarse: “SEND IN THE MOMS!” If you really want to get stuff done, send a few mamas up there, and things’ll move and shake.
For one thing, we’re experts at making opposing parties get along. Shoot, you don’t travel 14 hours – or, hey, even the 15 minutes it takes to get to church – without knowing how to reach across the aisle and garner cooperation. You may not use the same tools that Reid or Boehner are using, but you’ll get it done.
Yup, we know what to use when the kids are fighting. Our arsenal includes The Look of Death, The Hairy Eyeball, and the ever-effective Earlobe Twist. If those don’t work and neither side will give in, you stick ’em in a room and tell ’em they can’t come out until they’ve reached a sound agreement. You throw in PBJs periodically if you have to, but they WILL work it out.
When they do, you let ’em out, and you reward ’em with milk and cookies after they take a good, long nap. So that’s what this mama is waiting for – a congressional agreement that makes sense for once and stops spending more of my money. Once they get their hands out of my back pocket and stop the fighting, I’ll share the Oreos. After they wash up and take a nap, of course.