I’m always ready to cut a deal to avoid problems. Maybe it’s a guy thing. If I can’t talk my way out, my next move is to start negotiating. And if I’m really in a bad way, I’ll cut you a sweetheart deal. Just ask my wife.
But none of that works when the baby comes along. Suddenly, here’s a crisis creation machine, that like a Terminator, can’t be reasoned with, can’t be bargained with, and will never, ever stop. Just try–and I’ve done it, I assure you–to offer a baby candy to stop crying. Nothing. It’s like the baby doesn’t even know what I’m talking about. Same thing for cash–lots and lots of cash, as in I’ll give you $500 if you let Mommy and Daddy get just six straight hours of sleep tonight–which apparently carries no weight in babyland. Keep your money, old man. See you at 4 a.m.
They don’t want to drive the car, they don’t want potato chips, they don’t want toys, an iPhone, or a chance to watch Mad Men. They just want what they want: food, diaper change, attention. And when they want it, you can’t cut a deal. It’s deliver, or deal with the consequences.
Now I don’t want to spoil the ending or anything, but I understand–with girls at least–a lot of this equation changes down the line, and bribery comes back in a big way. I’ve just got to hold on. After all, during crying fits I’ve already promised her a car.