Koala comes over and yanks off my glasses.

“No! Mama is blind, c’mon…”

He bends back the left arm with his little fist. The second pair he’s ruined in a week.

“Oh, c’mon? Why you gotta be so mean?”

I go upstairs and get my next spare pair.

“Look, Koala! Do you like Mama’s ugly glasses for emergencies?”

After a sharp look of disgust, he walks off to the, apparently, cooler parent.

Wait until genetics hits you hard, Koala.