I want to come into your room all quiet-like at night and give you a goodnight kiss like we're in the illustrated children's book by Robert Munsch Love You Forever, but ALL THESE LEGO PIECES on the floor are killing it for me. The wee plastic wig of what you call "a minifig" has embedded itself into my heel.
It really hurt.
I'm not blaming you, but Mommy's feet are lacking in the padding to deal with the plastic bricks and whatnot that form the substrate of your room, dear. When you're old you'll understand why old people like slippers, but when I was your age of course I couldn't fathom it either.
When I woke you up because I shouted that little fucker! I was referring to the Lego minifig wig that I had just stepped on, and not to you, sweetheart. How could you think that? I'm sorry I woke you.
I'd also prefer that you not spread it around at school that I threatened to sue the entire bullshit Lego company. Sometimes Mommy gets angry and threatens to sue toy companies, or Disney, or the Cartoon Network for perceived injustice. Like to outmoded gender roles and the general dismissiveness of global warming and our degraded suburban landscape and refers to them as plastics pushers -- that's just how Mommy is.
But that doesn't mean she doesn't want you to be happy.
I love you, I just can't stand
Love you forever.