It's late.
My little one - the essence of childhood, heads to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Sibling-trickery is the name of the game as he goes about explaining to his older sister why he spread hand soap across the bristles of her toothbrush. There's a hint of laughter in the air as the reasoning makes its way to the excuse.
He says that he always has to deal with soap in his mouth. That he's always being directed to consume a sudsy matter when the step-mother of the West comes into play with her dictatorship antics and lack of good parenting style.
What?!
As he's being reprimanded for the sake of health over concerns that soap will cause sickness to someone he cares about, he's duly-explaining that this kind of thing happens constantly when he's at his dad's house.
Since when is that kind of guardianship allowed to run freely over the land? It's not.
He says he has to do it when he's forgetful. Or when he mistakenly trips down the stairs because, (as she believes) he's not paying attention.
And this woman runs a daycare center?
Oh, to get my common sense in an injection form and inoculate the charge-parties of the county government seat.
In an honest token of biology, it doesn't take more than a misguided effort to create a child -- and though that might make one lost soul a "parent", it by no means, makes you a father...or mother.
Take head dear stand-in placement of guardian-over-my-child: your concurrent acts of embarrassment and degradation, while your husband remains inattentive, shall be construed as direct and intentional efforts of abuse; not "guidance" as you may conceive them to be.
Likewise, the same establishments which have naively supported your daycare establishment will be noticed of your poor judgment and inadequate, lacking, and immature parenting. And though I understand this may mean nothing to a county which oozes corrupted policy, you surely comprehend that it means worldly-measures to a woman that simply does. not. give. up.
Absolutely, positively,
Me
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