I hate the marshmallow test.
Do you know the one I’m talking about?
It’s the one where they stick a kid in a room with a marshmallow and tell them if they don’t eat the ‘candy’ for thirty minutes, they get a second marshmallow.
They say that the kids who can delay gratification all grow up to be doctors and lawyers and presidents and astronauts and make their parents so very very proud.
The rest?
Problematic.
They either die in a ditch somewhere with a mind full of chemicals. Or, they are employed in either digging the ditchs or pulling dead scumbags with minds full of chemicals out of ditches.
Two marshmallows or ditchwork. The options are pretty clear.
Brutal.
Parenting is tough. Either you’ve got the perfect kid with restraint, great manners, student of the week, two marshmallows and a future scholarship to Harvard, or you’re one of those people.
Me? I’m already one of those people. If they pulled that marshmallow bullshit on me, I’d eat it right away.
Yeah, I’d give up on having a second ma…
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