Yes, crotch goblins, Mommy does have super powers.
I can tell by the sounds of your playing that you’re doing something you aren’t supposed to. I can smell dissent and don’t even try to tell me you weren’t guilty. You are always guilty of something, let’s be serious. I can smell bullshit, don’t try me.
I have the power of sarcasm, which thank the gods you don’t understand yet. It’s what let’s Dading and I survive you creatures. I don’t know what we will do when you start getting it. Probably check ourselves into a mental institution.
I can tell by the looks on your faces that you’re lying to me. Or that you don’t like something even when you say you do. I can see when you’re uncomfortable or nervous (I obviously mean Biggie- Smalls could give a shit and has no sense of self preservation or fear. I’m considering getting him rabies tested because he’s as feral as Spot from The Good Dinosaur).
Here’s what I don’t have, despite you both thinking the opposite:
I do not have the ability to gain you re-entry into my vagina. As much as you both try, you aren’t getting in and even if you could I would absolutely not let you. So back the fuck up off me and give me some room!
Even though I can hear everything you do, I do not have the ability (nay, the desire) to apparate every time you decide you need something. For example, I was just in the bathroom, TOLD Biggie I was going in there, and I still heard him ask if I could put something else on Netflix while I was in there. Toddlers and small children have some genetic mutation where they think if they speak, you will appear. That only works when you’re doing shit you shouldn’t (please refer back to the beginning of this blog post).
I don’t have the ability to stop sleeping. I know, I know, this is a tough one for you guys. Because when you wake up your little brains think we should wake up too. And if we lock your doors at night to keep you fuckers on lockdown, (seriously if you don’t do this I cannot recommend it enough) you think yelling for us until I drop in on your Alexa and unhinge my jaw is the answer. I know you don’t understand cause and effect yet, but if you don’t let us sleep we don’t have the energy to play with you all day. Crazzzyyy, right? Who would have thought. I saw something on the Internet that said “children emulate what they see, which is bullshit because they see me sleep and they do not sleep.” You think Mommy and Daddy turn into zero fun assholes when we’re tired? Check the mirror, savages. Pot calling the kettle.
I know you both think my life will be endangered if I sit down. That’s the only explanation I can come up with for why you never let me do it. Small children must also have a scent gland or something that sends an alarm to their brain “parents are trying to relax- MUTINY!” You have actually conditioned me to pace the house instead of sitting and this is some Pavlov’s dog shit that I am not ok with. Patients are not supposed to run the asylum.
I would try and set some groud rules but after 2 months of quarantine no one listens to a goddamn thing I say, so why bother. “You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.” Don’t worry Batman, these kids will never let me survive that long.