Thursday, October 20, 2016

Zoe vs. WikiLeaks: Six-Year-Old's E-mails Hacked!

Dear Mommy,
To be honest, when I first heard the term WikiLeaks, I thought they were talking about some Maori kid who peed his pants. But when my people brought me up to speed, I decided I better write something to set the record straight.

WikiLeaks satire
Image credit: Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images

First of all, some of these alleged e-mails have been doctored. I never said, "Mommy is a poopy butt," or if I said it, I didn't mean it, and if I did mean it, it was taken out of context.
There are a lot of contexts where someone can be a poopy butt and it can be a good thing. I can't think of any, but I have a lot on my mind just now, what with my school's candy sale and trying to figure out how I can make money selling chocolate to myself. I can't be expected to remember everything. Besides, I think this whole e-mail hack thing is just a distraction from the important issues, like how many chocolate bars you can buy from me for me, or how much later I can go to bed. 
In the leaked documents, there's also the implication I'm for unfair trade. I think it's very fair when I get more than other people. It's more fair to me. I like chocolate (see previous statements) and, also, to win games. And for you to not say you let me win. That ruins it.
(But let me win.)
Another thing is that, sometimes, as a person living with a lot of stress, I need to vent to close personal associates. Like in my e-mail addressed to the cat that you're upset about---with the expectation of privacy, by the way---where I said Mommy is unfair and never lets me do anything and doesn't want me to be happy or she'd let me play all night and never sleep after eating all the chocolate. I think you need to grow up mentally as much as I do physically. I mean, did you really need to read that to know what I was thinking?
The cat agrees with me.
You may also have heard about the e-mail I sent to everyone in your contacts where I gave them all your passwords. First of all, "1234password" is ridiculous. Make your passwords harder, a higher number at least, like ten thousand one hundred fifty thousand. No one could guess that. It's not my fault if you do these things to yourself.
My public persona and my private persona both question your judgment and also wonder why the cat doesn't wear pants. He's naked and you don't see a problem. But God forbid I pee with the door open. Double standard.
Okay, I guess I did admit in one of those e-mails that sometimes I know when I'm being bad but do it anyway and play dumb because I know, as the Mommy, you have to forgive me. Some call that taking advantage, but I just think that's smart.
I think it's time to move past this and forge a new relationship based on mutual respect and a constant supply of chocolate. To my mouth.
Because you know what they say: kid pro quo. You scratch my back and I let you rub my back till I fall asleep.

Zoe: 150; Universe: 0
If you enjoyed this post, you may like this one 
in which Zoe confronts Donald Trump.

For more of Zoe's hijinks, follow me on Facebook and on Twitter at @zoevsuniverse
I need a win here, people. 

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Thursday, October 13, 2016

Zoe vs. Boredom: In Which a Child's Ennui Becomes Tedious

"Zoe, time to get dressed."
"Brush your teeth."
"So boring."
"And get your backpack."
*Falls on floor, apparently overcome by tedious commands.

A Child's Boredom
Lately everything is boring, according to Zoe. Breathing in and out to her is dull and unimaginative in its repetitiveness. And it doesn't seem to matter how busy we are; she'll always find the boring.
One recent weekend, we had soccer on Saturday morning, a late night out at a dinner dance, and then on Sunday we took her to a Renaissance Faire. When we got home she played a few games on the iPad, watched one show on TV, and then, when we said her screen time was over and it was time for Mommy and Daddy to watch the news, she said, "But that's so boring." And, cherry on top, she then said: "I never get to do anything!" 
"Are you out of your mind?" I said, hoping I could interest her in reality.
Then I had to be very boring and list for her all she'd done that weekend, because apparently remembering the previous twenty-four hours is boring, as is appreciating one's old and silly parents. She is six and a study in ennui. 
But is she really bored or is her vocabulary just limited? Or maybe she's a pioneer and is just expanding the definition. Let's review some meanings of boredom. Excited yet?
Boredom meaning #1: A state of disinterest in one's surroundings in which there is nothing one wants to interact with. 
Our apartment is littered with toys that are apparently so boring and played out she will not let me throw any of them away. (Meta-boring!)
Boredom meaning #2: General restlessness, especially that which can overcome the privileged. 
See again all those toys she can't be bothered with. Maybe she has too many things. (Blasphemy!) Maybe she needs occasional dalliances with deprivation or, at least, a mental challenge. I suggested reading or doing math. 
"Ugh! Boring!" 
Little do you know the boredom ahead of you, I told her. 
Then I introduced her to the phrase "PowerPoint presentation." I mentioned speeches at professional conferences, waiting in line at the post office, and (with particular emphasis) having to watch a small child struggle to put on pajamas that are inside out. 
Throughout her lassitude remained intact.
Boredom meaning #3: Slightly irritating, adorably inept, or just plain silly, i.e., providing little or no challenge. 
Yesterday evening Zoe was playing a game on the Nick Jr. website which featured the dogs of Paw Patrol in a soccer match against Mayor Humdinger's villainous cats, aka the Catastrophe Crew. As Marshall the fire dog scored against the kitten who was the goalie, Zoe turned to me and said, "That cat couldn't stop the ball. So boring!" 
Indeed. And just moments later it was time for her tiresome mother to serve her a boring dinner featuring wearisome broccoli, after which she'd have to suffer through the boredom of bath time and the dreariness of being tucked into bed, where she'd fall asleep after much boring resistance and have monotonous dreams she'd be too apathetic to relate the next day.
Boredom meaning #4: Things one's mother makes one do.

Zoe: 149; Universe: 0

If you enjoyed this post, you may like this one 
in which Zoe confronts the meaning of life.

For more of Zoe's hijinks, follow me on Facebook and on Twitter at @zoevsuniverse
I need a win here, people. 

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