Alternate post title: Richard Scarry Gives Crack to Children
I've reached a new parenting milestone: I officially hate a book.
Like, I hate it. I HATE IT. All day long it's "purple story" this and "purple story" that. In the middle of the night. "Purple story!" With the crying and the screaming. So you read purple story. "Again!" You read purple story again. "Again! Again! AGAIN! AGAAAAAAIN!" Did I mention the crying and the screaming? "PUUUURPUUHL STOOOREEEEEEEEEE!"
I hate this book. And I'll be honest: I kind of hate Rusty for bringing it home. It's okay that I'm telling you this. I've already told him.
I don't normally believe in burning books. I'm ready to make an exception.
P.S. Fuck you, too, Goldbug. In fact, fuck you THE MOST.