It is an unspoken rule that if a little kid is hiding under a blanket or couch cushions, you are required to comment on how lumpy the blanket is and pretend to sit on it to try and “smooth it out.”
Also, if you’re playing hide-and-seek with them, it is critical that you search every other possible (and impossible) hiding spot, all the while wondering out loud how they managed to disappear just like magic, before walking right past their hiding spot.
And if a baby starts playing peekaboo you are required to act surprised when they show their face again
If a kid hands you a phone, you answer it
If a kid shoots you with a Nerf Gun you are supposed to Die a dramatic death and explain “ugh you shot me blaahh”
when you push a kid on the swings ya gotta do the woosh
I literally just blocked about a dozen people on this post for being cranky about children.
Being a joyless shitbeast to kids isn’t cool. They’re kids. If you want to be Oscar the Grouch, that’s fine, but do it in a way they understand and explain it to them.
“I don’t want to play, I’m grumpy. Thank you, though, that was kind.”
It’s literally not hard. Kids are small people. Treat them with common fucking decency.
seriously though the life of Ada Lovelace is some next level Mary Sue bullshit
oooh I’m the daughter of Lord Byron, I’m a countess, I get Dickens to come to my house to read me bed time stories in person, I’m learning mathematics from De Morgan, I know calculus, I take tea with Charles Darwin, I’m the world’s first computer programmer, I display a depth of understanding that won’t be reached in the software industry for another hundred years, la de fucking da
I opened the door and only Arthur came inside. It’s raining. I couldn’t find the other cat. She’s usually the first to come through the door, so I got slightly worried.
