Category: James
-
Featuring Tequila (Right), Little Tequila (Left), and One Very Overworked Toddler King James climbed onto the bed with the gravitas of a man about to deliver a State of the Union address. He surveyed his plush council. He inhaled deeply. He exhaled like a disappointed CEO. James: “Ladies… gentlemen… stuffed citizens… we have a crisis.”…
-
It was supposed to be a peaceful evening. I was sprawled across the ottoman like a Roman emperor in sweatpants, ruling my kingdom of blanket, Cheez-It crackers within reach, and the glowing screen of Floor Is Lava blasting at full volume. The contestants screamed, the lava bubbled, and I was content. But then—something shifted. The…
-
—James, Age 3, Discoverer of Forbidden Textures He says it like he’s returning from a quest.Like he crossed the Great Carpet Plains, braved the Perils of the Playroom, and bartered with a mysterious merchant named “Target.” He stands before you, palms shimmering with cosmic goo, eyes wide with the knowledge that life will never be…
-
I ascend my mother. Not metaphorically. Literally. I climb her like a weary mountain explorer scaling Everest, except I am wearing dinosaur pajamas and carrying a candy cane that drips with the sticky promise of chaos. I settle into the sacred nook between her shoulder and her head — the throne of kings, the cradle…
-
I will not nap today. I declare this from the hallway like a warrior king announcing war. It is Saturday — the holiest of days — and naps are for weekdays, peasants, and babies who don’t understand freedom. I am none of those things. Mom kneels down and says, “Buddy, you’re tired.” I gasp. Tired?…
