If this was a story I would doubt its honesty

Devon has reached that age that were he not so freaking cute, I would stuff him in a box and mail him to a Russian orphanage. Everyday is such a challenge that I am often afraid to get out of bed in the mornings for fear of the knowledge that he will be kicking my ass for the next 12 hours. He is known at the Benevolant Tyrant, the Vanilla Dictator and That Thing.
Lately Devon has been watching Toy Story every day. He has taken to informing me that he will be reporting me to Star Command for my mean behaviors. He then runs into another room and beats on his chest in the region where his Star Command buttons must live as he bellows, “Tar Comman, Tar Comman! Come in! My Mai-Mai mean! Help me, Tar Comman! I need help!” When he returns with an air of great authority I try to keep a straight face when I ask him how it went. He usually harumphs something in my direction that although I don’t speak Toddler, sounds like a serious put down.
This morning Devon awoke in a particularly contrary mood. I especially dread these types of mornings because I know that no matter what I do, I am going to end up on the losing end of the toddler. Nothing would satisfy Devon’s demands today, I was reported to Star Command twice before breakfast even started. I don’t know what ultimately triggered him, but he stomped up the stairs, slammed the door, then opened it and yelled from the balcony, “It no fair, Mai-Mai! My life no fair!”
Oh. Ah, hmmm. I’ll be right on that. My mother, Loren, Cass and I were rolling on the floor. Where does this kid get these things? It took me well into my 20′s to realize that my life is unfair. How did he do it before his third birthday?