Category: James
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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…
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James has entered full dragon mode. Not the fire-breathing kind—no, this is the hoarding, snarling, treasure-clutching toddler variety. His treasure? Cars. All of them. Every last one. The red one with the missing wheel. The blue one that makes noise if you hit it hard enough. The yellow one that smells faintly of peanut butter.…
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Hi. It’s me again. James. Age three. Full-time snack negotiator, part-time keyboard operator, and the only one apparently taking this household’s finances seriously. So today I was using Mom’s work keyboard—you know, to send some emails, pay a few bills, maybe finally confront that mysterious thing called “mortgage.” I was deep in fiscal focus when…
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AITA for refusing to let Mom and Dad fix my BIG BOOBOO after I fell off the kitchen table? Hi. I’m James. I’m three. My chin hurts and the world is unfair. So I was on the kitchen table (yes, the table, not a crime—just elevation for inspiration). My brother left his Legos there, and…
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So there I am. 830am. The sun is up, the snow is out, and Mommy and Daddy are doing absolutely nothing of value—just sitting there with their coffees like background characters. Meanwhile, I have work to do. I round the corner in my Luigi socks—my power socks—and nothing else, because clothes are for people without…
