Rule #59: Vacation in a Third World Country

Weren't you the one complaining about taking a bath? That tub doesn't seem so bad now, does it, hot shot?

Your kid, like most American children, is spoiled shitless.

He’s got an iPod, a television in his room – which he shares with no one – and you even let him have his own seat at your dining room table.

Clearly, the rod has been spared and the child has been royally spoiled. And his entitled perspective has his expectations as high as his Uncle Leroy, who, incidentally, was never invited to the dining room table.

To combat the social retardation which will be the result of this spoilage, you should, at some time in your child’s adolescence, vacation to a third world country (no, flipping on Slumdog Millionaire doesn’t count.)

Your probably thinking that there’s no way this could improve anything, and you’re probably worried about getting your Manolo Blahnik’s stolen – or worse – dirty, and you may be right.

But you never joined the Peacecorps and you mildly regret this, so pack your bags, head to Somalia and get ready to improve the shit out of yourself and your kid:

Freedom Isn’t Free

Getting a taste of the local culture at most third world countries will allow your child to appreciate what they already have. And if you’re really clever, you can pit your child against one of the locals to compete for their room and board back in the states.

This is a healthy competition and it will help your child realize all the hard work that goes in to…being rich. And, even if they lose out to an Ethipoian distance-runner in the competition, you’ll have a track star to show off to your ultra-competitive suburban friends when you come back home.

Happiness is a Warm Bun

Little Jonathan probably complains a lot. His Pop-Tarts are cold in the center, his skim milk is too “milky” and he doesn’t believe enough effort went in to the preparation of his foie gras. However, after the continental breakfast at the Hotel Rwanda, he’ll be more appreciative next time he opens his mouth to be fed.

When you get home, and make his PB & J with the crusts cut off, he won’t care that you’re using the generic, store-brand bread. He’ll just be happy he doesn’t have to contend with festering maggots eating more than their fair share.

And if all else fails, leave him there. You’ll never have to worry about him not coming home for Thanksgiving or Christmas. He’ll literally be dying to see you. He’ll just have to hope he’s clever enough to sweet-talk immigration officials – or be skinny enough to squeeze through the bars (he will be).

(It wouldn’t be right not to give a special thanks to Gutsy Writer and the accompanying comment that inspired this rule)

Tagged as: crushing the dreams of your children, scaring your kid shitless