dear nanny blog,
i promise to never again write a blithe little post about how great such-and-such an age is. it’s been a rough 2 weeks.
being five sucks! you shit your drawers at the hardware store that one time but they still won’t let you wear your soft soft pullups no matter how much you wheedle and you tell your teachers and nanny that you’re going to kill them with the toy gun you got for yr birthday that your idiot dads actually let you play with but now they won’t and you get 3 timeouts a day and for some reason you can’t figure out how to listen to grownups instead of your aggressive impulses, even though you JUST WERE DOING IT so well for so many weeks, so you get demoted to the younger kids’ class at preschool and it’s like you might NEVER get to watch tv at dinner like EVER again.
not only that, but your current nanny is scheming behind your back on sending you to a behavioral therapist and THAT is gonna be annoying and also sending you to an allergist so your days of stupid delicious sugary breakfasts are probably numbered.
and your nanny from age 18 months to 3 1/2 is about to have a baby and you can’t really decide which you’re more worried about: whether she’ll get hurt when the baby comes out (out of her mouth?) or whether you’ll ever get that chair back from her that used to be in your room that your dads gave away without telling you.
and now all you have is a stupid weird beanbag chair thing that’s like, supposed to be a giant football.
elroy: i fucken feel for you, little bro. and your bullying prowess is impressive. But. you gotta stop giving death threats and lying [badly] to grown ups, and you gotta stop punching/kicking/throwing dirt at/trying to cut the hair of other kids. also you shouldn’t ever put a pen in the toaster again. turns out that is a BAAAD idea. especially the fancy v-ball kind.
meanwhile, on the other planet, me and The Cadet have been Tearing It Up. maybe i’ll blog about it when she’s sleepin tomorrow.