I love sugar cereal. Some of my favorite foods are sugar cereals. Think about that for a second. Off the top of my head, I can think of three sugar cereals that are among my favorite foods. Three of my favorite foods are from the same category, and that category's target demographic is young children. You know how some adults don't eat sugar cereal? I'm not going to be one of those adults. I don't know what the threshold is for when one starts to eat healthy cereal, but I'm never going to cross it. One of the reasons why I want to have kids is so I have an excuse to buy sugar cereals. I know that there's not a rule where an adult needs children in order to buy sugar cereal, but it just looks a lot less suspicious if I have kids with me when I buy it. Until I have kids, I think I'm just going to pay kids to accompany me to the store. No one else will know the level of creepiness that entails because they'll have no idea I paid them to go to the store with me. So, when everyone looks at me in disgust, I'll just say, "Oh, it's for my kids," and everything will be fine. Also, when I actually have kids, I don't think I'll allow them to eat sugar cereal for two reasons: 1. Less sugar for them, and 2. More sugar cereal for me. My kids will be like, "Daddy, can we have some Reese's Puffs?" and I'll say, "No. You can have some when you're older." Then they'll ask, "Why do we have five boxes if we can't eat any?" and I'll say, "For motivation to live into your twenties. This is why you shouldn't drive 70 mph*," and they'll say, "We can't even drive, Daddy!" and I'll say, "Valid point," and then pour myself a heaping bowl of Reese's Puffs.

When I was younger, I wanted a pet turtle more than anything. To this day, I still do not know why I so desperately wanted a turtle of all things. I have always been a sucker for reptiles and amphibians. Also, can we just combine those two animal groups, yet? Lizards, frogs, snakes, turtles - they're all pretty similar. We'll call them reptibians. Or amptiles. I like reptibians more. Anyway, one day, on his way home from work, my dad stopped by a Petsmart (I still am not sure if that's "Pets Mart" or "Pet Smart." I think that was their plan the whole time! Those sneaky executives...) and bought me a turtle. I was ecstatic. At this point in my life, I was horrible at coming up with names (I'm the best at it now. Seriously, ranked #1 in the world at coming up with names), so I decided on Mr. T. The "T" stood for "turtle." It wasn't until a few weeks later that I made the connection between Mr. T and the Mr. T. I then decided that I named my turtle after Mr. T.

One day, Mr. T's container was dirty, and needed cleaning. "Container" is the best word I can think to use. He lived in a big, plastic tote, filled with sand and water in such a way that it resembled a beach. Well, maybe if you've never been to a beach in your life. Regardless of beach quality, it wasn't like a little tiny container. I guess I could've said "Mr. T's tote," huh? Oh well. His habitat was dirty and smelly, so my dad said it would be a good idea to clean it. I took the tote outside, set Mr. T down in the grass, and cleaned his home for him. As I was rebuilding the "beach," my dad came outside and said, "Hey, come dry the dishes off for me."

"What about Mr. T? He's roaming free in our backyard."

"He's a turtle - he won't go far."

"Good point. Okay."

I was gone for maybe five minutes. I came back outside, and Mr. T was nowhere to be found! I even looked in our neighbors' lawns. Apparently he had been to a beach before and decided the one I created was not adequate.

I'm not a sexist person. Women can do anything that men can, except pee standing up and be diagnosed with prostate or testicular cancer. Also, men can do anything that women can do, except give birth and breast feed. More power to both genders. However, my last class of Childhood Development has me thinking that, generally speaking, men might be smarter than women. I know that, statistically speaking, women are smarter than men, but this class is 96% female, and it is just not composed of intelligent individuals. During this occurrence, I nearly lost it. That's how ridiculous it was.

Last week, we had an assignment due in Childhood Development. Unfortunately, this was before I realized that the professor never mentioned when things were due and that all assignments were posted online (Yes, this is still a post about female stupidity, not male stupidity. Hang in there, I'll get to that). We started going over the assignment near the end of class, but ran out of time. The professor said we could turn them in next week. After class, I went online and found the assignment, but there wasn't actually a description of what we were supposed to do. There were just four pictures. I concluded that we were supposed to print one off, but nothing more than that. So, I printed off a picture, wrote my name on it, and decided that I'd get to class early and ask someone what we were supposed to do, and then do it really quick.

This last Thursday was the next day of class. I got there about five minutes early and took my seat. The girl next to me was frantically writing on a piece of paper with a picture on it. Perfect. She's working on this assignment, too, and obviously knows what we were supposed to do. "Hey, what exactly were we supposed to do on this assignment?" I asked.

"Umm, just, like, print off a picture and, like, write about your interactions of it," she replied, in the stereotypical, ditzy blonde voice. She wasn't even blonde - that's when you know there's reason to be concerned.

"My interactions...? W-? D-? Uh, oh...kay..." That's all I could manage to say. "My interactions? So I just write, 'Well, I saw it online and printed it. Then I wrote my name on it, and now I'm writing this,'? There's no way that's right," I thought. So I just folded up my piece of paper and decided to take the zero. About twenty minutes later, the professor said, "Okay, now hand in your pictures and observations." OBSERVATIONS! How do you mix up "interactions" and "observations,"? HOW DO YOU DO THAT?! I just stared at the girl next to me for about thirty seconds, directing all of my anger towards her in hopes that she would explode with shame and embarrassment. She didn't notice that, though - she was too busy texting. She was probably texting stupid things like, "lol," or "roflcopter."

Understandably, I don't have a lot of faith in my generation to teach their children, which means I have very little faith in our future generation as fully-functional human beings. Therefore, I feel like smart people, such as myself, need to do whatever they can to help out when the future generation is upon us. I'm going to teach them while they're still young and easily sculpted, and on the first day every year, I'm going to teach them the difference between "interactions" and "observations."

I'm really good at making excuses as to why I shouldn't have to take a class. Last semester, that class was Family Relations. This semester, it's Lifespan Development: Childhood, or simply Childhood Development. "Wait, Joe, aren't you an Early Childhood Education Major? This class seems to pertain to early childhood." You are correct on both counts, kind stranger. However, this class, so far, deals with very early childhood. Like, prenatal childhood. That's so early that, if you have questionable morals, you don't even count these children as living. I understand that I'm going to be teaching children or whatever, but that's just it - I'm going to be teaching children. You know what I can teach a fetus? Nothing. Actually, I guess I'm not sure if science has proven that. I guess maybe I could put headphones on the mama's tummy, and then speak into a microphone so the fetus could hear me. That would be pretty neat. When born, that baby would be the only baby to know that prepositions should never end sentences, the three different types of "there," and when to use "you're," "your," "it's," and "its." And, really, that's all one needs to know to succeed in this world.

Like I said, fetuses are all that we have learned about in this class. Well, that's not entirely true. We've also learned about ectopic pregnancies, miscarriages, stillbirths, and, wait for it, excessive bleeding. What? I don't wanna hear about any of those things. Fetuses make me uncomfortable, and when one starts to grow in the Fallopian tube, which can lead to death for both the baby and the mother? No, thanks. Miscarriages and stillbirths? I found it ironic that we talked about those because, in all of my other classes, we were talking about how to avoid depression and suicide. This was kind of the opposite. There's literally zero chance that I will have a fetus die inside me, but that was quite depressing. 96% (I did the math) of the people in this class are females, so this was a very emotional day, indeed. We had a speaker on this day, and she mentioned that during one of her pregnancies, she was in labor for 48 hours. 96% of the class cringed, gasped, groaned, and screamed "Oh mah gawd!" 4% of the class, including me, widened their eyes, chuckled, smiled, and then put their heads down when the 96% glared. I am part of the 4%. Occupy Childhood Development. I don't know what that means.

Today, we're talking about birth, and I can guarantee that if we watch a birthing video, I am going to leave. First, I'm probably going to vomit, but then I'll leave.

I've been told, quite often, that I am a pessimist. I always respond with, "No I'm not - I'm a realist," or, "It's not pessimism if you're always right." However, lately, I've also been told that I am an optimist. I respond to those accusations with, "lol," "Usually, I'm actually pretty pessimistic," or, "It's a lot easier to be optimistic about other people's problems than your own problems." With that said, I still think I'm a realist. However, with that said, today I had a revelation. A very, very pessimistic revelation.

Waking up is the worst way to start a day. However, it is literally the only way to start a day. Isn't that sad? Every day that I will ever experience will start out horribly. Not just horribly, but the worst way it could possibly start. I'm never happy the moment I wake up. Ever. That means I never start a day out happy. That's why I don't understand morning people. Why are they so happy? They've recently stopped sleeping - that's no reason to be happy. See, I'm a mourning person. I mourn the loss of my sleep. The best time to do that, of course, is in the morning, when I wake up. I'm not looking for sympathy; I'm just trying to spread my pessimism. You know what they say - misery loves company.

However, I could look at this from an optimist's point of view, too. I mean, I'm not really a pessimist - I'm a realist. The fact that waking up is the worst way to start a day isn't pessimism, it's reality. Anyway, the optimist's point of view. Well, every day starts out terribly by waking up, but every day also ends perfectly, by going to sleep. There's no alternative way to end a day, just like there's no alternative way to start a day. I can't think of a better way to end anything than by falling asleep. Sleep is the best. When someone says, "I fell asleep during _______," most people are like, "Haha, that sucks," or "Wow, you're lazy." Not me. I think, "Lucky!" and then wish I was asleep. That's how awesome sleep is, and everyone gets to end every day by sleeping. So, to those of you who don't believe in happy endings - your move. Your happy ending will come as soon as you choose to end today.

Wow. That last statement was hardcore optimistic and hardcore pessimistic.