By Jack “Button Masher” Chunkerson, Age: somewhere between pureed carrots and sentience.

It was a peaceful evening.

Papa had his slippers. The couch was creaky with familiarity. The news blared—something about economic crises, political turmoil, and a raccoon hoarding pizza in a dumpster (that part was actually kind of inspiring).

I observed.
I calculated.
I clutched the remote like Excalibur.

Papa said, “No touching.”
But his finger was nowhere near the volume. Rookie mistake.

So I did it. I hit the power button. Not with aggression—with intention. A cartoon flickered to life. Giggles. Bright colors. No mention of inflation or despair.

Papa gasped.
Mama froze mid-diaper fold.

“Jack! You turned off the news!”
Correct, Mother.
I turned off the sadness.

AITA?

Let’s review:
🍼 I am a baby.
📺 I crave joy, not geopolitical heartbreak.
👴 Papa’s face was already slumping with existential dread.
✨ Now he’s watching a singing octopus in a tutu.

Do I regret it?
No.
I’m a hero.

Verdict: Not the A-hole.
I’m just a tiny human with big emotional boundaries. I may not know what “midterms” are, but I do know that sad voices and scary graphs ruin the vibe.