I know nothing about children, aside from having once been one. From what I can tell, there are a whole fuck ton of parents who fall into the same category. At least I own it.
Maybe it was the road rage from the snowbirds driving. Maybe it was the sound of the Cheetos packaging crinkling. Maybe it was simply the annoyance of having my pre-therapy session Twitter interrupted by the voice of another human. Whatever the cause of my near-panic reaction, I am still contemplating the seriously disturbing tale about wolves, a pig, and a flamingo.
I typed the following thoughts as I was waiting in captivity:
New version of 3 Little Pigs/ Wolves in therapist’s waiting room. I need Xanax. Plastic snack packaging. Why am I doing this again?
Does she have to read this so loudly?
I can’t even concentrate on these #TradeValentines on Twitter. This is BS.
What is happening right now? The kid is providing color commentary. I need silence.
Going to spend the next hour trying not to have a panic attack. Omfg.
Wolves used dynamite to blow up the house? How is terrorism in a children’s book?
Flamingo pushing a wheelbarrow full of flowers. Wtf? They’re building their next house of flowers? That’ll never work.
I was going to edit them but I feel they accurately capture the essence of my thoughts at the time. So it turns out, The Three Little Wolves and the Big Bad Pig came out in 1993. 1993! It’s supposed to have a happy ending but I fail to grasp how anyone could (or should) be friends with someone who destroyed their house once with a sledgehammer, then with a pneumatic drill, and finally with dynamite. And let’s be real; that flamingo was not giving away those flowers for free. Capitalism always wins.
That, of course, made me think of Hansel and Gretel (Stranger Danger!), Sleeping Beauty (kinda rapey), and my favorite Le Petit Prince (holy symbolism, Batman!). It’s no wonder children have nightmares. Can we not teach valuable lessons without all of the death and dismembering? Have our language skills not evolved beyond The Brothers Grimm?
It’s not cute; it’s creepy. And frankly, it makes Twitter seem downright wholesome. @dog_rates 15/10, I’m counting on you.