AITA for Dismantling My Brother’s Toy Block Race Track While He Was Mid-Construction?
By James, Age 3 (Gremlin-in-Chief and Unlicensed Demolition Specialist)

Hi. It is I. James. Age 3. Chaos scholar. Block relocation expert.

Today’s drama began when my brother Jack decided to build “a race track of dreams” in the living room. It was ambitious. It was colorful. It was…in my way.

To be clear, I wasn’t invited. He said things like:
“Don’t touch that.”
“These go in order.”
“You’re breathing too loud.”

So naturally, I touched. Loudly.

The track looked better as a pile. Jack disagreed. Loudly.

Mom tried diplomacy:
“James, maybe help build instead of un-build?”
I laughed. She didn’t.

Jack tried everything.
He assigned me a side quest: “Go build your own tower.”
He offered trade deals: one red block for silence.
He even gifted me the “special spinning piece.”
I accepted…then used it to smash turn four.

Jack screamed, “I CAN’T WORK LIKE THIS!”
I screamed back, “I CAN’T BLOCK QUIETLY!”
It was a battle of wills.

He called me a gremlin.
I called myself The Block Reaper.
Mom hid in the kitchen and pretended dishwashing required noise-canceling headphones.

Eventually Jack flopped dramatically onto the floor.
“Why does he ruin everything?” he said, emotionally sprawled.

I patted his leg with sticky sincerity and whispered:
“It’s not ruined. It’s re-imagined.”

So… AITA?

For:

• Deconstructing his dreams with toddler flair?
• Ignoring creative boundaries in favor of dramatic flair?
• Being 3 with opinions and motor skills no one saw coming?

Or is this just sibling collaboration with extra spice?

You decide.
But if you’re looking for the race track—it’s now a sculpture.
Entitled “Chaos in Primary Colors.”

Critics are unsure.
Pookie said it was “a brave waste.”
Jack said he was retiring.
Mom said, “I need a nap.”

And me?
I’m already building again.
A pile. Near the bathroom.
Don’t ask why. It’s art.