I don't know about you, but there are so many times in my life I would just love to go back to Kindergarten. I'd love to spend most of my day learning to write my name, coloring pictures of puppies, and singing my heart out in between two recesses, a lunch break, and a rest time. Yesterday when I mentioned my desire to go back to the "easy" life of a six year old, Adolpha let me know that I have a pretty jacked up memory.
According to Adolpha, life is incredibly hard when you're six.
She gave me a look that said:
You think playing out in the snow sounds fun? Well, it's an ordeal to stand there while your mother pushes and pulls and squeezes your limp body into all of your snow gear just so you won't get wet and cold and it's a pain to pick up all of your fun toys that your parents bought you to play with in the snow.
It sucks that you have to bathe - alone (where is the fun in that? Who wants to linger in a tub all by their lonesome?). And why do you need a bath again today? You totally just did that yesterday. Having someone wash your hair is annoying. Putting on clean underwear is a drag. Getting your fresh clean hair combed and dried is borderline torture and now your piggy tails are uneven. Son of a bitch!
It really blows that you have to wait while someone else makes your lunch for you, especially when you are literally starving to death. It is outrageous when your lunch arrives with crusts still on the bread and apples on the side, when you clearly ordered your mother to make your sandwich sans crust and serve you canned fruit cocktail. Can't this woman do anything right today?
It is completely ridiculous when your brother expects to get a turn with the TV remote. As if anyone would choose not to watch "My Little Pony." It's like you can barely believe you're related to this chump.
It is so unfair that you can't use glitter or paint or glue or scissors or Sharpies without "supervision." WTF? Don't people realize you're not a stupid little preschooler anymore? You're six now! Besides, a little glitter would actually improve the decor around this place. All of these tans and taupes are depressing.
And by the way, how screwed up it is that you have to put an Angry Bird bandage on your ouchie because you used up all of the Hello Kitty ones on fake injuries? The humiliation of being seen in an Angry Bird bandage hurts more than the paper cut.
It is so rude when your mother suggests you take a nap. She should know better, she hates it when other people tell her she looks tired!
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