The Baby Psychopath Test

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

On days that are challenging with D, I try to take a breath before issuing another time out, to try and make a joke instead of glaring him into submission, to patiently redirect him instead of defaulting to a shouting match. You know, to be more mom and less Vince McMahon negotiating his WWE contract.

On days that I've screamed at my son for the 30th time before breakfast to not hit the dog in the face with Mr. Owl, to not run away while I'm trying to wrestle him into diapers/socks/shirts/shorts/pajamas, to not punch his sister/me/father/cereal, to not eat the battery/quarter/entirebananawhole, to not destroy the bill/artwork/receipt/vip paperwork that was supposed to be stacked in the one place he can't reach, to not rip/empty/destroy/inadvertently open the portal to hell out of pure, undiluted rage, I work on my agent query letter for The Baby Psychopath Test and revise some of the entries.


1. When you greet your child in the morning and lay him/her down on the changing table, your baby:

A) Gives you a playful smile. You are their world. 

B) Gives you a playful smile before punching you in the mouth. You were blocking their view of the overhead fan. Bonus points if they simultaneously kicked the diaper cream out of your hand with their (club)foot

C) Coos

2. It's breakfast time. He or she:

A) Beckons, points, signs or states that he/she would like food.

B) Grabs the refrigerator handles and trembles with Hulk-like rage as they have yet to possess the Hulk-strength to open them. They scream at you to open the door. Scream at you when you do open the door.  Scream at the unfairness of not being tall enough to reach the milk. Scream that the milk has not been placed into a cup and into their hand .08 seconds after they demanded.  And continue screaming.

C) Has fed themselves. They have to get back to their infant SAT prep. 

3. Lights out. It's bedtime. Your baby:

A) Goes to sleep.

B) Cries, stalls like a motherf*cker, but goes to sleep.

C) Goes to sleep. Then wakes back up and laughs manically at the ceiling for two hours straight, causing you to lurk outside their door with your smartphone trying to record audio. They stop laughing every time you hit record, because in addition to being in league with the devil, they generally just enjoy f*ing with you.  You regroup, looking through the baby monitor, scanning for the dead relative hovering over your baby's crib, cracking your baby's shit up. They finally go to sleep around midnight. Naturally they are up at 5:45 AM.

4)Your child hits your sister/mother/glass cabinet/dog/refrigerator/front door again, and when picked up and scolded, he or she:

A) Cries and apologizes. Even though the other guy deserved it.

B) Headbutts whoever was stupid enough to pick them up. I mean, did you not just see them punch a CABINET because they thought it was giving them attitude? They live with cretins.

C) Coos. En Espagnol.

5) You google "baby psychopath" and finding nothing, write a quiz based on your actual interactions. You are:

A) Ambivalent about putting this on the internet. Another quiz suggested he might just be a three year old boy. And he's totally sweet when not tearing apart the house with his bare hands.

B) Posting this shit. Because he might actually be the youngest candidate for boarding school in history, and who are you to stand in the way of your child getting a Guinness World record? Or moving to Latvia?

C) Cooing. 


  1. I threw myself a party in my head each time my kids turned four. Especially the last one. Because he could use his head as a wrecking ball to all parts of his body, it was a particularly long, flipping year. You have my condolences. As the french say: Courage!