It Seems That Children—And Furbys—Do Not Have An Off Switch

Hanukkah comes early this year, in November.

Hanukkah came even earlier for a lucky little lady called Isabella.

She caught me in a moment of weakness and if we’re being honest, I really just wanted a break from playing another game of Apples to Apples.

My kids do that thing, you see. That thing, the one where they become obsessed with something to the point that it becomes What? Other games? We have those??

See also: Ace Ventura: Pet Detective. I was super excited to introduce my kids to Ace. They were finally going to understand where almost all of my material comes from. The initial responses were less than positive and I was worried that my kids were about to divorce me for irreconcilable differences. She just loves crappy movies, they argue. But I held my ground. If there was going to be any divorcing, it was going to come from me. They just don’t appreciate perfection, I’d argue. And I’d win, obviously. It’s not like I made them watch the sequel or anything. But then, they started laughing. And didn’t stop. So we watched again. And again. And again. And now it’s all they want to watch which I guess is an improvement from Jessie reruns.

Because, hey, guess what? It’s doesn’t actually feel like a party every day.

“Let’s play Apples to Apples for the fourteenth time in a row, Mama!”

“Let’s go to Toys r Us!”

Sure, I’m getting to wear the Mother of the Year tiara and sash, and I haven’t had to play a single game of Apples to Apples in two days, but, well, let’s just say that I had an immediate case of buyer’s remorse.

I immediately regretted this decision.

On a scale of one to Moon Sand, this one is high up there.

Here’s an interesting tidbit about a Furby: YOU CANNOT TURN IT OFF.

Oh no. No off switch. None. You can get him to take a nap. But if you knock the table or walk past it too quickly or too slowly or speak too loudly, guess what happens? Dude is up and ready to go and talk his high-octave gibberish.

It’s exactly like having a newborn. Except newborns don’t look like Mogwais on methamphetamine. Most newborns at least.

“Wow, Mama. Parenthood sure is hard. My Furby is a lot of work and he is never, ever quiet. And he just wants to sing and dance all of the time and doesn’t really like to go to sleep.”

“Just wait until he wants to play Apples to Apples with you…”

She just better not throw water on this guy. Or feed him after midnight. It’s enough of a horror movie around here already.