We're in the middle of "Flat Stanley".
I hate "Flat Stanley". Listening to that story drone on in your typical staccato elementary fashion is torturous. Flat Stanley. Gets. Mailed. On vacation. Flat Stanley. Fits. Down a street. Drain. Flat Stanley. Disguises himself. As a painting.
Three dimensional mommy needs a drink.
To whomever has printed off and laminated a Flat Stanley so you can convince people to take photos with him, I think I hate you too.
I'm telling you people now, considering it's the season of giving, do not give my kid any Flat Stanley books or any of the books where Stanley regains a rounder shape. Just don't. I will put a hit out on you. Keep lookin' over your shoulder, that's right, you won't know when it's coming.
No Elf on an Everlovin' Shelf either.
I hate that elf. I hate him with his Cupie doll face, his pointy hat, and his noodly spastic arms and legs. He's a creepy thing sent to spy on your kids and report back to Santa, who apparently forgot he had a list and that he was supposed to check this list twice. At least that's how it used to be. Now parents have a Red Fred to hide every stinking night. Not only that, but I've been told there are entire Pinterest boards devoted to how to cleverly hide your elf which will create joyous family memories which your kids will relate to their great grandkids, probably telepathically, because that's gonna be possible in the future.
You know what I'm going to do if I spot that elf in your house? I'm going to take a sharpie marker out of my purse and draw male genitalia across it's manipulative smile and a raunchy word on his hat. That's the reason for the season. Santa doesn't have spies and he don't cotton to snitches.
You may very well ask, "Becky, do you hate everything that
Why no, I don't. Just 95% of it. If it's an activity that Mommies on Pinterest describe as, "So CUTE! My kids will LOVE it!"...well, I'm not climbing onto that precious plastic bandwagon. Stanley on a Shelf can bite me.
My kids read Nietzsche. They will love it or Santa drops a buttload of coal in their stockings.