You son-of-a-bitches. We are not friends. Your existence is purely so that my daughter may one day rip into a filet mignon like she means it. The anger and frustration that you cause my family is on parr with the anger and frustration I can see one having when fighting with a family member or getting a horrible grade on a paper. Not this. Not you taking your sweet-ass time to come out of my child’s gums, torturing her all the while.
Why is it that you enjoy torturing my child? Did you simply decide that you were too good to come out when you were suppose to? Did you feel lonely and need to come out all at once? DO YOU WANT ME TO NEVER DO THIS AGAIN?! Because I have threatened it before and I will say it again: this may be my only child! And I blame you!
But I digress… You are awful. We have no discernible routine, no bedtimes or breakfast times. My child sleeps in like a frat boy until at least 11am because you keep her up all night drunk on pain. You make me feel wretched for even sighing when the screaming starts again. Because I am a human being that needs sleep, damn it, not a robot!
In conclusion, while I know that I am not the only parent that has to endure your tyranny, I will be the first to admit (at least in my experience) that you are a bunch of assholes, in those very words. And whenever you all decide to make your pearly white appearance, I will cease my hatred of you. But until then, you suck. Stop hurting my kid.