In the land of TJMaxx, where deals are divine and markdowns are sacred, a rare sticker appeared: $9.99—not on a clearance shelf, but on the belly of a boy named James. Age: 3. Value: incalculable. Sticker: non-negotiable.

James is not a child. He is a limited-edition, high-demand, ultra-premium toddler overlord, and the sticker is merely ceremonial. A humble nod to his greatness. For $9.99, you don’t buy James—you submit to him.

👑 His Royal Commands Include:

• Juice, now. Not in a cup. In the blue cup. With the twisty straw. That bends like a giraffe neck.
• Snacks, immediately. Not the ones you offered. The ones he saw once in a dream. Possibly shaped like Blippi’s hat.
• TVs, all four.• Living room: Blippi, volume 97.
• Kitchen: Paw Patrol, classic.
• Bedroom: Paw Patrol: Rubble, because Rubble is the real hero.
• Bathroom: Monster Jam, because nothing says potty time like a truck doing a backflip.

📺 James doesn’t watch TV. He orchestrates it.
He walks the halls like a tiny network executive, adjusting volumes, pointing fingers, and muttering things like “No, no, no, Rubble needs to be louder. LOUDER.” He’s the only person alive who can simultaneously absorb four shows and still demand a fifth.

🍿 Snack logistics?
He has a rotating menu. Goldfish are currency. Fruit snacks are diplomacy. Cheese sticks are war.

🧍‍♂️🧍‍♀️ Adults? Mere assistants.
They carry him like a sultan. They interpret his cryptic snack riddles. They change the batteries in remotes he’s thrown across the room in protest of insufficient Blippi.

💬 His catchphrases include:

• “I SAID JUICE.”
• “I NEED MONSTER JAM IN THE TOILET.”
• “YOU’RE NOT LISTENING TO RUBBLE.”
• “I COST NINE NINETY-NINE.”

And when questioned about the sticker? He simply points to it and says, “That’s my price. But I’m priceless.”