Hi. I’m James. I’m three. I live a complex life fraught with betrayal, lies, and vegetables. And now I find myself asking: AITA?

Ever since I gained full custody of my snack drawer (thanks to a successful plea deal involving a tantrum and public flailing), I’ve committed to a nutritional lifestyle of juice boxes and string cheese. That’s it. That’s the entire pyramid. Everything else? Suspicious. Deceitful. Evil.

🥦 Exhibit A: Broccoli.
It looks like a tiny tree. I don’t eat trees. I’m not a beaver. My mother tried to mix it with pasta, thinking I wouldn’t notice. I did. She’s been put on probation.

🍗 Exhibit B: Chicken nugget betrayal.
Apparently “homemade” means it’s some sort of flesh wrapped in lies and breadcrumbs. Not McDonald’s? Not interested. I will eat it, only to spit it dramatically into the nearest sippy cup.

🍎 Exhibit C: Apples.
They’re trying to sell me on “crunch” and “sweet.” But they bleed juice when bitten, and that’s just emotionally manipulative.

🥤 Meanwhile, juice boxes offer hydration, adventure, and a built-in weapon (the straw is VERY effective at poking my brother). String cheese is interactive. It peels. It’s satisfying. It does not try to disguise itself as something else. It’s honest. Like me.

My parents say I’m being “unreasonable” and “living like a raccoon.” My brother Jack has started calling me “Monsieur Cheeseboi.” But I’ve never felt more in control. More alive.

So Reddit… AITA?