Shedding tears over the trials of inanimate objects. (There really is no need for methods 9 through 84, because this one is driving the nails into the coffin of my sanity all by itself.)
Brianna's stockings won't fit on Five Guys. By all means, let's WEEP about it. Shoo logic out the window. Let's completely ruin the morning over this.
It's one thing for toys to be a source of joy and spontaneous celebration. Bring on the weekly weddings and birthdays and anniversaries. Hoorah imagination.
But when they start to add drama into my life, they are hovering precariously close to annihilation. I'm reaching the end here. A lot of things take priority over my sanity, but an imaginary world will not. One more ridiculous toy-related demand -- one more meltdown over something THAT IS NOT REAL-- and there WILL be a lynching of all baby dolls.
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