We, the undersigned preschoolers, have decided to present to you a list of our collective grievances. We find that we can no longer continue with business as usual, and it is in our own best interest to ask, nay DEMAND, that you hear our complaints and move to correct these deficiencies at once.
We trust you will consider these carefully. Otherwise, we’re telling.
1. You never let us have cupcakes, Pixie Sticks or pudding for breakfast. Perhaps you are unaware that in double-blind studies conducted in Amsterdam, these things have been scientifically proven to be entirely delicious. In addition, they provide a much needed energy boost to start our day.
Do you think it’s easy to run at breakneck speed through the house screaming, “Boogar face,” at the top of our lungs? In fact, it is not. Our small bodies demand that at least six-eleventy percent of our daily caloric intake should be made up of red die #6 and pure cane sugar. Twelve out of two doctors agree.
2. Your repeated directives that we should stop hitting our siblings leads us to believe that you are not aware what complete doodie heads they are. Clearly you are oblivious to their nefarious goings on when you are not looking.
Have you any idea how often they lick our stuff? No? How about how many times in one day they touch us when we have made it exceedingly clear we are presently suffering from immunosuppression as it pertains to basic cootie defense?
Every one of us has been tortured by these monstrous creatures, and hitting them on top of their pointy heads with the nearest available blunt object is often the only way we will survive to fight another day.
3. Jumping on the bed is an absolute delight and frankly, we are surprised that you don’t value it’s educational benefits. It is only through vigorous and unsupervised bouncing on the Serta that we learn that objects in motion tend to stay in motion until the meanest Mom in the whole world walks into the room.
4. It is only through repeated networking with our peers on the playground and in day care that we have begun to suspect a number of pervasive and deeply troubling lies that have been perpetrated on our numbers by parents in every house, everywhere, infinity, no pass-backs.
Did you really never, ever talk back to your parents? Really? You always ate everything on your plate, even the lima beans? Really? You never licked a car window because you saw a rain drop on the outside and were curious as to whether you could catch it with your tongue on the inside? Really?
You should know we are currently in the process of scheduling meetings with grandparents across the nation, and should we discover you actually did eat a piece of dog food when you were 4 because it looked amazing, there will be H-E double hockey sticks to pay.
5. Without consulting us, you’ve decided there are words we cannot say. Have you any idea how confusing this is? We are only just learning the language as we are new here, and you arbitrarily go all psycho Elmo on us when we tell you we don’t want to take a damn bath.
How would you like it if some giant put you in time out every time you said, “kitchen towel,” or “red wine,” or “mortgage rate”? Not cool, tall human. Not cool at all.
6. Things that are mushy and smell bad should be left in the yard for us to poke with a stick or to dare our little sister to smear on her face. The microwave is not a magic box that turns broccoli and peas into magic unicorn chow and cookies. You can retire the whole, “it’s good for you,” propaganda machine. We would rather smell the cat’s butt than put those alien guts in our mouths.
7. And finally, what in the name of Dora and Diego is your thing about picking up toys? Picking up our toys is an exercise in futility. Playing with toys is our job. It’s what we do. It’s what we’re good at.
We don’t come to your job and tell you how to twirl around in your chair as fast as you can, or how to push all the lighty-up buttons on those phone machines, do we? Ease up on the whole, “pick up your toys right this minute,” thing and we promise not to tell Grandma that we called her a shit monkey at church because when you call Dad that he laughs, and we are nothing if not very short, aspiring comedians.
Local #32, PreSchoolers of the Entire Universe All the Way Up to the Clouds