Category: James
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We barely get our coats off before Papa declares Thanksgiving officially open—not with a prayer, but with a fart joke so loud it rattles the cranberry sauce. The boys collapse in laughter, Mimi mutters something about “raising animals,” and I’m just grateful someone else is keeping them entertained while I scope out the pie situation.…
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Twas the night before Thanksgiving, at Mimi and Papa’s lair, Not a parent was stirring—because frankly, they weren’t allowed there. The stockings weren’t hung, but the freezer was stacked, With popsicles in colors that science forgot to track. Jack and James nestled, not snug in their beds, But bouncing off couches, with sugar in their…
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🍼 AITA for Rejecting My Assigned Loveys and Falling in Love with a Crib Sheet Named Blankey?By James, Age 3 (Attachment Innovator, Plush Denier, Crumple-Cuddler) Hello. It’s me. James. I was presented with options. Fancy options. Loveys: soft, squishy, designed by professionals.They had satin edges. Embroidered stars. One even came with a backstory and a…
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It started with Mom yelling, “ITTTT’SSSS TIIIIIMMMMEEEE!” like she was about to enter a wrestling ring, but instead of body slams, she was hauling up bins of glitter and tangled lights from the basement. Dad sighed. The kind of sigh that sounds like it’s been waiting all year. “Already?” he said. “It’s not even Thanksgiving.”…
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James here. Look. I saw the couch. I saw the ottoman. I saw the narrow crevice between them and thought: Yes. That’s my throne. I perched.Feet up like royalty.Butt suspended in the crack like a toddler trapeze act.Elbows locked on the couch cushions like I’m bracing for impact — or delivering a TED Talk on…
