Psst! Over here! This is Maia.

Dad sometimes let’s me sit on his lap while he’s typing away on the computer, and he doesn’t realize that I’ve been watching him and have discovered the user-name & password to his blog. Guess what it is? His user name has to do with his favorite tobacco, and his password is his favorite gin… Geez this guy is messed up!

Anyway… I think I have a right to defend myself. If any defense is needed, that is… I mean REALLY, what kind of father publicly roasts his daughter? What a jerk! You know how he referred to me as a Visigoth? I know it seems like clever improv thought up while typing, but it’s not at all the witty ad lib he makes it out to be… it’s my NICKNAME! My brother Addison is nicknamed “Blue”, my sister Rose is “Newt”, but me? I’m “The Visigoth”. “Visi” for short.

It’s not the only preferential treatment that goes around. My brother gets fencing lessons… lessons that actually COST MONEY to train him to lunge at people with long pointy swords… but when I, at no financial strain on the family, jab my siblings with a pair of scissors, people go into conniptions. And you should see the Christmas presents they got last year compared to mine! Addison got a hatchet, amongst all his other cool things! Rose had a huge set of “Littlest Pet Shop” figures in her stash. But me? I got toddler toys & “cute” outfits. I can’t wait to grow out of the “age appropriate” toys everyone thinks I need. Fine… I’ll admit the blocks and the lacing cards are strangely captivating, but how long does a girl have to wait before she can get a hold of some power tools?

And let me just say, it’s not my fault that my brother and sister were freakishly easy children! They’re creepy! When Dad tells them to do something, and they actually say “Yes, Dad.” Ugh! I could puke! Do they not know their cooperation reflects so badly on me? They’re so inconsiderate! They drive me crazy! I can’t handle it! A toddler’s emotions are fragile, and so I have to let off steam before I do something regrettable by throwing large and heavy objects at them.

Dad’s about to flip his lid with me peeing everywhere, but he’s only got himself to blame. Last month, when my hobby was spreading the liquid soap all over the bathroom counter, do you think he supported that? No. Soap was clean! An innocent fascination, but he still put the kibosh on it. He’s never happy, whatever I want to do, he’s always harping on me. “Maia, get off the refrigerator! Maia stop putting those wooden blocks under the furnace! Maia don’t eat the broken glass! Nag! Nag! Nag!”

Do you think he even asked me why I pee everywhere? Maybe I’m interested in a future in Waste Treatment, did he think of that? Well, I’m not… but HE DOESN’T KNOW THAT! What if there were a reasonable explanation? You’d think he might want to find out before besmirching my name on the world wide web!

I’m doing it because I love you Dad! You need a little perspective on life! You freak out even when I make the smallest of messes… I need you to understand that things can get worse! Plus, don’t think that I didn’t hear you muttering under your breath this last week when you were cleaning up the toilet paper that I plastered to the ceiling. “This can’t go on,” you whined, “I’m at the end of my rope.”

Well guess what Dad! I can’t handle you having such little confidence in yourself… Your rope is A LOT longer than you think, and I’m going to prove it to you.

Hugs!

-Maia