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.