My three-year-old daughter just got out of the master bathroom. She completely plastered the wall with stickers, then, not two minutes later, completely plastered the wall with vomit. And I couldn’t be more proud! Let’s just say it seems like I have a future punk on my hands, not to mention a bathroom that rivals CBGB in its heyday.
This is nothing short of epic. I knew she partied. She was walking around all wobbly earlier tonight. But who knew she had this in her so early? Vandalism with absolutely no regard for authority? I’m pretty sure she pissed herself, too. Pretty fucking cool.
She might be more punk than me. She’s got this legendary scream voice that wouldn’t even need a PA. Most things she picks up, she ends up smashing on the ground. All her clothes are tattered. And you should see her fucking hair, it’s pretty gnarly. I can’t believe I didn’t notice all of this until now.
She’s always moshing in the sandbox with her playdates. I thought it was because she lacked muscle control but I guess it’s because the government lacks control over her. I respect the fuck out of that.
Has it been hard raising someone so hardcore? Of course. She’s up all night. She likes music that straight-up hurts my ears to listen to. And she listens to it over and over on repeat! I’ve never met anyone so staunchly passionate about their taste. I changed the song once and she punched me. Closed-fist shot to the cheekbone. Can someone say, “crowdkiller?”