Category: James
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🚗 AITA for Demanding a Car Ride While Protesting My Car Seat Like It Was Made of Betrayal Foam?By James, Age 3 (Drama Leader, Certified Breath Victim, Lap Justice Advocate) Hi. It’s me. James. I’m three years old and emotionally turbulent. I love car rides. I romanticize them. I yell “LET’S GO ON AN ADVENTURE!”…
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My fellow Millennials,We gather here today—not in peace, but in powdered sugar and confusion.Because we are no longer just raising children.We are raising our parents. They have entered their Sixty-nager Era—a phase no parenting book warned us about.They are sixty-year-olds with retirement accounts, zero curfews, and the chaotic energy of a teenager who just discovered…
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I am not available for questions. I am not available for negotiations. I am busy. My hand is the canvas. My hand is the muse. My hand is the moment. I have outlined it in red, in green, in something called “midnight blueberry.” I am halfway through “electric tangerine” when dad appears with a spoon.…
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It began innocently. The backyard sun shone like a spotlight on destiny. Birds chirped. A breeze rustled. And then—James saw it. The Stick. Not just any stick. This one was worthy. Majestic. Weathered from noble tree-fall. Thin enough for waving, thick enough for status. A stick forged by fate and squirrel drama. James froze mid-skip.…
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Welcome to my gallery. You may call it a hallway, a kitchen, a bathroom threshold—but I call it The Grand Speedway of Order. Every vehicle in this household, from Lightning McQueen to the rogue Duplo dump truck, has a destiny. And that destiny is to be lined up with precision, color harmony, and emotional intensity…
