Have you ever tried to leave your house with a child? As in, a child who had to leave with you or Social Services might serve you with side-eye and a summons? If so, you may have noticed that leaving took longer than you would've thought possible.
When you try to leave your house with a child, time seems to slow down as if you're being pulled into a black hole, one involving mismatched shoes, unnecessary Lego adjustments, and general nonsense.
On Sunday, as the Husband, Zoe, and I watched the Super Bowl at a friend's house, I was reminded how difficult it is to get her places and then get her out of those places in order to return home. During the halftime show, as Justin Timberlake was transporting sexy back and forth from one thematic set piece to another, I looked over at Zoe and thought, if it takes as long to leave here as it took to leave our home in order to get here, I better start telling her to get her shoes on even though we have a few more songs and a couple more quarters to go.
Today I've written a parody of Timberlake's "Can't Stop the Feeling " to express that certain special frustration that every parent feels when they're trying to leave the house with a child who does absolutely everything but actually get themselves ready to go. I'm calling it "Please Stop, We're Leaving." Enjoy!
Please Stop, We're Leaving!
Each time we're leaving, from our home
You have to be asked 10 million times to put on clothes
You dropped my earring. You lost the post.
Then yell, Mommy, can you help me blow my nose?
Now I've got used tissues in my pocket
Got a feeling of defeat
Feel frustration in my body as the iPad drops
If I take my eyes up off you
You progress infinitesimally
Check the clock, see how it mocks me
So please stop
And under the bench is where all the shoes go
Yes, put them on, but first put on clothes
Why you're not ready, no one really knows
I can't imagine, can't imagine, can't imagine
You know we're late, why haven't you put
on pants, pants, pants?
We should've left a while ago, put
on pants, pants, pants
Stop doing stuff you shouldn't do
instead, get on pants, pants, pants
I guess we won't be leaving soon
and now you're dancing
Please stop, we're leaving!
Get on pants, pants, pants
We should be leaving!
Get on your pants, pants, pants
Come on
Ugh, it's something tragical
You pet the cat, you stare in space, turn TV on
I'm losing all reason, losing control
My frustration's high, I can't believe you're on my phone.
Cause I got used tissues in my pocket
Got a feeling of defeat
Feel frustration in my body as the iPad drops
If I take my eyes up off you
You progress infinitesimally
Check the clock, see how it mocks me
So please stop
Stop flicking lights and put on your clothes
I'm gonna cry, feeling so lachrymose
Why you're not ready, no one really knows
I can't imagine, can't imagine, can't imagine
Put your toys back in your room
Put on pants, pants, pants
How many times can I say we're leaving till you
Put on pants, pants, pants
Come on
Stop doing crap you shouldn't do
Besides getting on pants, pants, pants
How come your butt's not getting cold
Without pants
Please stop, we're leaving!
Get on pants, pants, pants
We should be leaving!
Get on your pants, pants, pants
Come on [repeat]
Please stop, we're leaving!
(We are leaving, everybody.)
Time to be leaving!
(Specifically your body)
It should be leaving!
(With everyone else's body.)
Can we be leaving?
Breaking down now.
Zoe: 178; Universe: 0
If you enjoyed this post, you may like this parody of J. Lo's "Ain't Your Mama" about the Oxford comma.
For more of Zoe's hijinks, follow me on Facebook and on Twitter at @zoevsuniverse.