All Work, All Play

J Boy's feeling particularly put-upon this week. That's fine, I feel the same way sometimes. Among his list of complaints:

His mother has banned Trix from the house. Considering that it's one of the only foods he derives any pleasure from, I can understand. However, my mounting displeasure at his demands for six Trix meals a day only left me one alternative: banishment of said poison from the house. 

His parents are using birthday bootie against him, and winning. J Boy left his counsins' birthday party last week with A LOT of pinata loot (people love giving the strange little boy a leg up in the competition). Rather than throw it out, as we tend to do once it moves to the back of his mind, we've been bribing him to eat real, actual, recognized by the FDA food. Oh, how he resents having a lollipop dangled in front of him; he is downright pissed when he actually stoops to eating some oatmeal or chicken nuggets to get it.

School keeps happening. Why doesn't it stop? I'm sorry son, but you'll be going five days a week, about 48 weeks a year for the foreseeable future. It's a drag, I know. But you know what sucks more? When your teachers have to peel you out of your carseat kicking and screaming and drag you inside. I actually do not feel badly for you on this one; I feel badly for myself, your sister and your teachers because you come closer to puncturing all of our eardrums as the school year goes on. Just stop already.

Alligators don't wait for him. My grandparents told us a baby alligator has been visiting the lake outside their condo. Awesome! J Boy loves to tell us alligators live in lakes so we went to go see it. Not only was it not there, but we didn't see turtles, fish or anything else. His life was over. It was the worst thing that ever happened to him and we had the audacity to demand that he GET IN THE HOUSE NOW, FOR THE LOVE OF CATS, STOP BEING ALLIGATOR BAIT. Now it's all death and taxes for him until the end.

It's hard knowing more than the people in charge. I've felt like that at oh, every job I've ever had. Lessons in obedience are excruciating for him and frankly, I don't think they'll kick in for another few years. At that point I'll be a contender for the wrestling competition at the 2016 Olympics from "gently guiding" him through activities he's throwing himself on the floor and screaming over. ABA rules!