Last week, my child ate some old leaves out of a dead dog's mouth. This morning I found dried vomit in his pillowcase. He said, "I have defeated level five of this world." I awarded my child six thousand electronic gold coins. When I called the family doctor he told me to feed my child the stomach pebbles of a wild chickadee. I found some chicken nuggets in the freezer. That night we stood on top of the television instead of watching it. We covered all the lamps in the house with bed sheets. I asked my child what his favorite color was and then went to the store to buy a can of aqua moist bubblegum spray paint. When I got home there was a hole in the television screen and the toaster was tied to the ceiling fan by its extension cord. I heard the microwave giggling. I pretended I wanted to warm up a frozen leftover jar of barbeque sauce. The microwave fell off the counter and my child crawled out. I told him that level six had done some serious damage to his health levels. My child ran into the adult bedroom and puked in my two floral pillow cases. He looked very pale and lonely. I took out a camera and pressed it in his face to capture his below average appearance for the annual family holiday card. Someone from the environmental agency for childhood wellbeing began to eat part of our house. I put my child in the car and drove down to the convenience store. We bought a can of spinach and some fruit loops. My child said he wanted to fill the horse mayor with pudding. We went to the mayor's house and threw the spinach through the living room window and then dumped the fruit loops into the mayor's house through the broken hole. When we got home we made new instructions. First, only eat food if it comes in a bucket. Second, if you find a raw chestnut then put it in a food bucket. Third and final, dress like you're your own five-year-old mother.