alyssa

someone airdrop me a hug a mf going through alot

i am a vegetable medley and god is sautéing me on medium high heat 

idk why everyone took me saying this as a bad thing… it translates to “i am becoming delicious” 

art is open to interpretation

god grant me the serenity to do it to em

and the courage to accept that i had to

sometimes all u can say is “yikes” and just move tf on lol

why is everyone sad

dopamine machine broke

you guys all talk about how “petty” you are but one time my mom was so annoyed that the house was a mess that she made an actual vlog of her walking around the house and calling out every single family member for their shit and then threatened to post the video on facebook and instagram if we didn’t clean it up

Watching my toddler figure out how to language is fascinating. Yesterday we were stumped when he kept insisting there was a “Lego winner” behind his bookshelf - it turned out to be a little Lego trophy cup. Not knowing the word for “trophy”, he’d extrapolated a word for “thing you can win”. And then, just now, he held up his empty milk container and said, “Mummy? It’s not rubbish. It’s allowed to be a bottle.” - meaning, effectively, “I want this. Don’t throw it away.” But to an adult ear, there’s something quite lovely about “it’s allowed to be a bottle,” as if we’re acknowledging that the object is entitled to keep its title even in the absence of the original function.

Another good post to read for those writing small human characters. 

My son was about three when he came to me in the middle of the day and said, “Mommy, there’s a knight behind the bush.” I thought he meant a toy knight or something. So I follow him outside and he goes, “Listen. Do you hear it? It’s night behind the bush.” It was a cricket. A cricket was standing in the little patch of shade under the bush, chirping. So, my son saw this dark area with accompanying nighttime sounds and decided, okay, well, that is a night right there. Their brains are incredible.

My little bean knows she’s two, constantly saying proudly ‘I’m two!’ And the other day she saw this very frail old lady who looked one foot in the grave, pulled a face and said ‘oh shiiiit. She’s three.’ I almost screamed.

OH SHIT SHE’S THREE

It’s not a phase mom I really am the next supreme

my mom: it’s really not good to eat past sunset me, whose circadian rhythms have aligned with a nearby raccoon’s: your rules don’t apply here