MonsterMunch @monstermunch - Tumblr Blog

Someone said “loved to the point of invention,” and I’m personally in shambles.

FIRST, WOMEN HEAD TO THE FACTORIES, LOSING THEIR FEMININE REFINEMENT, AND NOW THEY PICK UP BASEBALL BATS AND FIGHT TO THE DEATH TO SEE WHO CAN BE THE MOST MASCULINE.

A LEAGUE OF THEIR OWN (2022)

intlbipolar

drtanner

This post is almost 11 years old now, so I feel like it’s time for an update:

alittlevillainy

salvadorbonaparte

I wish I could go to a doctor and just list every single symptom I ever experienced no matter how small and unconnected they seem and the doctor is nice and patient and knows everything and they nod and smile and explain that every symptom I ever experienced is connected to like one rare and often overlooked issue that's sooooo easy to fix with like. a pill. and then I never have to worry about anything ever again.

eusexuanal

Settles down on your dashboard gingerly and with a big heaving sigh

halorvic

estchiyu

I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream

0kame-san

The amazing dream circus🎪👁️👁️

I can't wait to see the new episode, but I'm also scared…….

offishly

"There's millions of Tumblr users" to you. To me there's only about 12 and we all reblog the same five posts from each other

3hkowalski

The silly AI who ruined it all.

the wacky one

the oblivious one

the one who was left behind

mainblag

WHY DO YOU PEOPLE TORMENT ME ? !

oneheadtoanother

wassup

beardedmrbean

vexwerewolf

This is one of the funniest noises I've ever heard in my life

mikkeneko

for the love of god unmute

elodieunderglass

Siamese cat coded

ismenes

When my son was about to turn two, strangers would offer condolences. There’s a collective cultural dread of toddlers, who get described more like animals than people. Kids in their "terrible twos," I was warned, are illogical, unregulated, and feral. "Good luck," people would say. "He'll grow out of it."

I'm lucky: My son is a very easygoing kid. But I remember the first tantrum he threw for me. He was standing by our front door and asked to go outside. So I opened the door and grabbed his shoes. But as soon as he stepped onto the porch, he pointed back into the house.

"Inside," he said.

"Okay," I said. I picked him up and brought him inside.

But as soon as I shut the front door, he pointed outside.

"Outside!" he said.

You know where this is going. We went back and forth, inside and outside, again and again. He got more frustrated. And I got more frustrated. Eventually he wound up straddling the threshold of our house, sobbing. When I tried to comfort him, he screamed at me. "You go wherever you want!" I said. He just got madder. I felt trapped, convinced he’d concocted the whole episode as a pretext to unleash his rage at me. It was ridiculous. I consoled myself with the thought that he was just being a toddler.

But later I kept thinking about him wailing at our front door, one foot inside, one foot outside. His misery wasn't unreasonable, or trivial, or silly. My son was experiencing the agony of wanting two things that were impossible to have at the same time. What a fundamentally human sorrow! My son wasn't being a toddler; he was being a person. Adults may not walk around howling, but that same pain rages within us. In that moment, as a father, I was powerless to solve my son's problem. I told him he could go wherever he wanted, but of course I was wrong. To be where he wanted was impossible.

Make Believe: On Telling Stories to Children by Mac Barnett