Meet Stella. She’s six, and, for a few more weeks, an only child.
Stella: Eeeeeeender! You never share! You do not understand what sharing is! Sharing is when I want something, you GIVE IT TO ME!
So I pee myself laughing and text Stella’s mom. She ROLFs. “Is that my fault?” she asks. “Probably,” I tell her, because I’m a bitch.
Stella: Ender wants to build a fort, but I don’t want to build a fort. I want to play Minecraft and Ender wants to watch Good Mythical Morning. We can’t agree on anything!
Jane: You guys are together for four hours today. I think you’ll have more fun if you find something you can agree on.
Stella: I’m not going to agree on anything TODAY!
Jane: Then I guess you’ll have a miserable day.
Stella: I! Will!
So here comes Flora, who can’t bear if anyone is determined to have a miserable day:
Flora: How about if you two…
And here comes the intercept by an un-helicopter mother:
Jane: Baby? This is so not your job or responsibility. You have things to do. If the littles do not want to play together, it is not your job to make them.
Flora: Is it yours?
Jane: Fuck, no. I have things to do too.
(20 minutes later, they’ve figured it out. Yes, there was screaming. But no blood. This time.)
Stella: My mom is way nicer than you.
Jane: I know.
Stella: But you’re a way better cooker.
Ha. By the way, beloved, that’s because I feed them lemon meringue pie for lunch.
Today’s story does have a moral.
Do you see it?
If not, go meet he who became my new favourite love in the summer of 2014—and then come back, and read this piece again.