First her mother insisted she wear her socks on the INSIDE of her tights, when everyone knows that socks are ALWAYS on the outside when wearing tights, or else your shoes don't fit right. And everyone also knows that if your tights are the same color as your skirt then it is absolutely necessary to wear two different color socks...on the outside. Terrible.
Then her mother insisted she brush her hair. TOO much insisting if you ask me. Why do I even have to have hair? Hair isn't necessary. I do not like hair. I do not like hair clippies. I do not like hair ponies. I do not like my mother. I do not like hair- bands. My mother finally brushed my hair. Then the brush got stuck in my hair. I cried. My mother said we have to hurry; or we will be late for school. Why do I have to go to school? Very bad.
Then my mother insisted I eat my breakfast, the only thing I could stomach after a morning like this was Cinnamon Toast Crunch, in my favorite bowl with my favorite pretty spoon with the flower on it, and the little glass with the ring around. My mother ran out of milk. My older brother Sam ate the last of the Cinnamon toast crunch. I did not want a banana. I did not want a pancake. My mother served me toast. One piece of toast without crust in a circle, lightly golden brown would have been tolerable. Did I get that for breakfast? No. My mother BURNT my toast. It was square shaped, with the crust, and burnt, black. Ew. No thank you. Terrible.
Well...finally...my mother turned on my favorite rock-out song. My day was getting a little better.
At 8:12 I got a visit from the counselor. My mother had called the school (GASP!!!). Turns out, the black cat running in our yard was NOT Cricket, turns out Cricket was sitting on top of the refrigerator the entire time. And Cleo said that she can't even tell my mother ruined my hair with scissors, she said her mother cuts out knots all the time. Morgan said she never gets to eat Cinnamon Toast Crunch for breakfast. Only pop-tarts.
