Airing of grievances

When your mother leaves Giraffe somewhere and your only good option is to sleep with Less Preferred Giraffe - even though they are exactly the same giraffe, it's just that Giraffe has been so much more loved and as such is grimier and more worn - it is basically the worst thing that has ever happened to you.

I mean, since the other day when your mother made you wear shoes to leave the house. I mean really. Shoes. The hell?

And speaking of things she makes you wear, what is the deal with pajamas at bedtime? In fact, what's the story with bedtime? When it is sooo obvious that you'd like to stay up and party nakey-nakey all night. No pajamas! No sleep till Brooklyn!

Plus, sometimes she wants to use the TV to exercise, when you have made it abundantly clear that it is exclusively your property, only to be used for Frozen and sometimes Little Mermaid or Princess Bride or Ninjago. Preferably Frozen, but sometimes you like to appease your brother.

Also, there was that indignity on the playground when Daddy said, "Did you poo-poo?" You told him no and then he came over to feel your bottom anyway and then announced, loudly enough for everyone to hear, that you did have a poo-poo! And then he whisked you away to change your diaper.

It's so hard to play it cool when you have shit like this going down.

And then there's Mama's photo obsession. I mean, why is she always pulling out her phone and saying, "Say cheese!"

Cheese. When she already has 50 fucking million photos of you and really, all you want is to be able to play with her phone so you can forward old emails and and post cryptic status updates like x**NDrs#~!~ on Facebook.

And then, then there's the perpetual and infuriating delay between you issuing a command and your parents complying with it. Because when you say, "Milk!" they must know you mean I NEED MY MILK THIS INSTANT STAT ASAP WHAT ARE YOU AN IMBECILE I MEAN NOW CHOP CHOP!

It's so hard to get good help these days.