She demanded that every meal end with candy. She demanded that every snack time begin with, and end with, cupcakes.
She demanded juice with tons of sugar in it instead of the sugar free shit that her oppressors have been giving her. She demanded Blue’s Clues and Dora the Explorer be broadcast 24 hours a day with no interruptions.
She demanded later bedtimes and in fact, came to the conclusion that the abolition of all bedtimes was even a better idea. She demanded that there be no such thing as door locks and places that are deemed “off limits” by the man.
She demanded that her little brother be tickled merciless merely for her own amusement. She demanded that she be allowed to lead the dogs around by their collars whenever she wanted.
She demanded strollers for all and oppression for none. She demanded equal opportunity to everyone under the age of 3 so that they may pursue any interest they the deemed worthy—such as coloring on the walls.
She demanded that all books be pop ups. She demanded riding in the front seat of the car. She demanded being able to throw dirt clods at whomever.
She demanded change and she demanded it now.
She went to the polls looking for this change. She smiled at first, winked a little and threw some “You Betcha’s” out there just to win over the crowd. However, the crowd was insignificant to her and all she wanted was for everyone to get out of her way or behold the power of the stroller of death and it’s ability to break ankles at will. Her little brother was a hapless passenger in this machine of carnage but she did not care as long as the cow catcher did it’s job.
She took a cookie when offered but gave no thank you. Thank you’s were for people more deserving than these mindless drones that stood in her way.
With confidence she took her ballot and her crayon that her “father” had given her. What a chump, yet useful when needed.
She looked at her choices. She looked and looked and looked. Slowly, her smile of confidence faded as the grim reality of her situation forced her to accept a horrible truth: There was no candidate on the ballot that supported toddler rights.
How could this be? How could the under 3 demographic be so forgotten, so ignored? Where were the groundbreakers, where were the leaders, where were the pioneers for toddler rights that should be present. Where they being repressed? Where they being imprisoned ? WHERE WERE THEY?
With disgust in her voice she yelled, the frustration of her screams echoing off the high ceiling of the church that was their voting venue. With a movement so quick it went unseen by most, she flung her crayon at the nearest pee-on and bolted for the door.
She heard a “Oh Shit” echo behind her as “Dad” realized that she was making a break for it. She knew that she could never out run him, but damnit if she wasn’t going to try. She made it as far as the lobby before she was captured. With all her might she kicked and screamed at him, at the situation, at the injustice. But it was all to no avail. The harder she kicked, the more she struggled, the more hopeless it seemed.
Suddenly the 100 or so people in line stopped their conversations and looked at the spectacle seemingly enjoying her pain as surely as they were judging her “father.” The hell with them and she screamed louder.
All attempts at reasoning with her went unnoticed. Bribes of candy and of soda went unheeded. Threats of punishment and the banishment of all TV were no more than dust in a tornado swirling around her hopelessness.
She knew that she had lost, she knew that it was over. She knew that no candidate on the ballot would bring her the equality and justice that she so craved. She know longer cared, how could she?
“That’s it!” her “father” bellowed. “Time out!”
Dutifully, as she had many times before, she found the nearest wall and began her ritualistic punishment. Another move in the game had been made and once again she had lost.
She would have her candidate, even if she had to run herself next time. And on the top of the platform that would inspire millions of 2 year olds, she vowed that no more time outs would be used.
God bless the temper tantrum. God bless them all.
She demanded juice with tons of sugar in it instead of the sugar free shit that her oppressors have been giving her. She demanded Blue’s Clues and Dora the Explorer be broadcast 24 hours a day with no interruptions.
She demanded later bedtimes and in fact, came to the conclusion that the abolition of all bedtimes was even a better idea. She demanded that there be no such thing as door locks and places that are deemed “off limits” by the man.
She demanded that her little brother be tickled merciless merely for her own amusement. She demanded that she be allowed to lead the dogs around by their collars whenever she wanted.
She demanded strollers for all and oppression for none. She demanded equal opportunity to everyone under the age of 3 so that they may pursue any interest they the deemed worthy—such as coloring on the walls.
She demanded that all books be pop ups. She demanded riding in the front seat of the car. She demanded being able to throw dirt clods at whomever.
She demanded change and she demanded it now.
She went to the polls looking for this change. She smiled at first, winked a little and threw some “You Betcha’s” out there just to win over the crowd. However, the crowd was insignificant to her and all she wanted was for everyone to get out of her way or behold the power of the stroller of death and it’s ability to break ankles at will. Her little brother was a hapless passenger in this machine of carnage but she did not care as long as the cow catcher did it’s job.
She took a cookie when offered but gave no thank you. Thank you’s were for people more deserving than these mindless drones that stood in her way.
With confidence she took her ballot and her crayon that her “father” had given her. What a chump, yet useful when needed.
She looked at her choices. She looked and looked and looked. Slowly, her smile of confidence faded as the grim reality of her situation forced her to accept a horrible truth: There was no candidate on the ballot that supported toddler rights.
How could this be? How could the under 3 demographic be so forgotten, so ignored? Where were the groundbreakers, where were the leaders, where were the pioneers for toddler rights that should be present. Where they being repressed? Where they being imprisoned ? WHERE WERE THEY?
With disgust in her voice she yelled, the frustration of her screams echoing off the high ceiling of the church that was their voting venue. With a movement so quick it went unseen by most, she flung her crayon at the nearest pee-on and bolted for the door.
She heard a “Oh Shit” echo behind her as “Dad” realized that she was making a break for it. She knew that she could never out run him, but damnit if she wasn’t going to try. She made it as far as the lobby before she was captured. With all her might she kicked and screamed at him, at the situation, at the injustice. But it was all to no avail. The harder she kicked, the more she struggled, the more hopeless it seemed.
Suddenly the 100 or so people in line stopped their conversations and looked at the spectacle seemingly enjoying her pain as surely as they were judging her “father.” The hell with them and she screamed louder.
All attempts at reasoning with her went unnoticed. Bribes of candy and of soda went unheeded. Threats of punishment and the banishment of all TV were no more than dust in a tornado swirling around her hopelessness.
She knew that she had lost, she knew that it was over. She knew that no candidate on the ballot would bring her the equality and justice that she so craved. She know longer cared, how could she?
“That’s it!” her “father” bellowed. “Time out!”
Dutifully, as she had many times before, she found the nearest wall and began her ritualistic punishment. Another move in the game had been made and once again she had lost.
She would have her candidate, even if she had to run herself next time. And on the top of the platform that would inspire millions of 2 year olds, she vowed that no more time outs would be used.
God bless the temper tantrum. God bless them all.
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