By Ada Alders

I’m not trying to incite a riot, spark panic, or sound like an off-the-hinges doomsday prepper, but here’s the real deal folks: if Hillary Clinton were president, I’d be fitting my preschooler for pantsuits right now. But, she’s not, and I’m not.

Instead, I’m equipping my three-year-old with apocalyptic survival skills, which, given the current political and literal climate, will likely be of more use than a miniature J.Crew jumper.

Before I share my tips for surviving and thriving after the oceans have boiled over, I’d like to take a moment to recognize that every family is different. Sure, these tips work for my family but, hey, they might not work for yours. I get it. Take what you can. Adjust where you’re able. Do what’s right for you.

Here’s how I’m preparing my family for the impending apocalypse:

1. We’ve turned the heat on in our home and cranked the thermometer way, way, way up.

To prepare for the effects of impending global warming, we like to start our days at a balmy 110 degrees Fahrenheit and gradually increase the temperature through the afternoon. Sure, at first we felt like our skin was peeling off and we thought we couldn’t drink enough water to save our lives. But soon, our skin will actually peel off and we won’t be able to drink enough water to save our lives. We like to think it’s best to prepare now while we still can.

2. We’ve substituted dirt and rocks in place of other, more traditional foods like vegetables, fruits, grains, etc.

Yeah, it tastes terrible, and we’re all wildly malnourished, but in a post-apocalyptic world, it’s not like we’ll have anything other than shrapnel and nuclear sludge to eat. Our children know that they can’t have their mudpies until after they’ve cleared their plates and finished all their sticks and twigs. At first it was a battle (Picky eaters, amiright?) but eventually our tastebuds adjusted and it’s almost as if we can’t remember what real food tastes like. Mostly, because we can’t. And that’s not just because of the myriad nutrient deficiencies affecting our cognition.

3. We’ve filled our home with three feet of water and make our kids swim everywhere.

Once the polar ice caps melt and blanket the earth with excess water, they’ll have no other choice. Best they build up hearty core and leg muscles now.

4. We’ve stopped calling them by their first names and just refer to them all by our last name.

I’ll tell you one thing, my kids will not be a part of that “everyone gets a trophy” culture. Mostly because no one will get a trophy, because trophies won’t exist, no games will ever be played, their lives will be joyless, and no one will be there to hand out prizes…but also because no will have any autonomy, individuality, or rights. In lieu of stripping them of ALL their freedoms at their age, we thought we’d slowly beat down their desire to be unique and make meaningful, purpose-driven decisions by lumping them all together and treating them like they’re already enrolled in a child army, fighting for a world that is ending.

5. We’ve not stopped hugging them or kissing them or showering them with affection.

Because for real, y’all, this shit is getting scary and we don’t want to let go of all that is good and pure and beautiful in the pre-apocalyptic world.

*****

About the Author

Ada Alders is a nonprofit executive with a penchant for whiskey and sarcasm in direct proportion to one another. Real strong correlation there.