h8

This story will make my friend Jon very happy.

Daschel has started writing letters. I’m totally thrilled about this, considering he just turned three last week [we’re still waiting for a big box to arrive at the door that says “To Dash From The Internet” but we’ll be patient], but today his ‘writing’ startled me.

His first letter was “H”, and I discovered he could write it when we were making a birthday card for his friend, Haley. I drew an “H” to start her name at the top, and he grabbed the paper away from me and proceeded to write several H’s all over the paper, proudly proclaiming “H!” each time.

I was totally floored. He’s been singing his alphabet forever, and knows his letters when he sees them too, but I’ve never even attempted to encourage him to write, because I figured shit, the kid can’t even draw a shitty tree, how’s he going to write?

Anyway, he wrote almost all of his friend’s name on his own, and since then, he’s been spending coloring time each day writing various letters. Every day he chooses three or four that are his favorite for the day. He’s pretty confident with H and T, and A is fun for him [don’t ask, all I know is he giggles maniacally when he draws an A], then today he tackled E.

What’s funny is he started his E’s the same way I did when I was little: three parallel lines with a somewhat crooked perpendicular connecting them.

After coloring time I put on his Kids Songs CD in his room and gave him some new chalk for his chalkboard. Being the good housewife that I am, I went and shifted the laundry as listened to him sing along with FUCKING BARNEY for a while before going back in to check on him. What I found nearly sent me into shock.

A demon [probably FUCKING BARNEY] took over my child and forced him to write H - A - T - E over and over again on his chalkboard. At times the H’s stretched out vertically over the board, as if they had wobbly legs and were trying to jump off the canvas. The E’s appeared to be strange alien symbols, and the T’s were drawn with such force, little bits of chalk clung to the edges, scared to let go and suffer the wrath of A’s equally intimidating limbs.

“HATE HATE HATE ATHE EETAH HTEAA HATE HATE HATE”

Does Barney want my son to kill people, or does my son secretly resent me for subjecting him to that garbage? Either way, the kid has been listening to Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah ever since then.

WHERE’S THE PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE?!?!

holy shit. the only thing emma can do is go “one, two, four, seven”. if i say “three” after “two” she looks at me as if i were an idiot and goes “thrillillilly”. sort of like “yeah, blah blah, mom.”