An open letter to the dad. From the Champ.
I am writing to express my EXTREME DISSATISFACTION in your handling of the organic string cheese we purchased recently from Trader Joe’s.
I’m just a toddler. “String” is not part of my vocabulary. I vaguely grasp the concept of “cheese.” And yet even I can understand the purpose of this “string cheese.” It is a toy that is crinkly on the outside and rubbery on the inside — perfect for waving around, banging on things and even chewing.
Why, then, do you insist on ripping off the crinkly outside part EVERY TIME you give me one? That’s the best part of the toy.
Adding insult to injury, you rip the toy’s rubbery core into strips and wave them in my face. I’m not going to put this thing in my mouth now that you’ve ruined it.
Seriously, you eat it. I will assume there’s a party in your tummy (so yummy! So yummy!).
I overheard the doctor telling you that I should add more fat to my largely banana-based diet. Who are you going to believe: An admitted Arizona Wildcats fan, or EVERY MONKEY IN THE WORLD?
In conclusion, please leave the string cheese in the wrapper. If you must feed me things, more bananas. The teary, snot-nosed meltdowns you’ve seen so far are only the beginning. If I take this to the next level, you’ll be scrubbing my food out of corners of the house you didn’t know existed.
P.S.: Batman. Batman. Batman. Batman. Batman. BatMAN! BatMAN! Batman. Banana.