You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in an ordinary junk car in Paris.
We ate nothing but lobster and dirty rice and we drank kamikazes, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Tuesdays we had chicken soup. I slept on a china hutch in the hall. My four sisters slept in the workshop.
I had to get up every morning at three to feed the newt and the monster. After that, I had to scrub the hall and deliver the pinwheel.
I walked seventeen miles through rainbows and palls of doom to get to school every morning, wearing only a blanket and a pair of roller skates. We had to learn botany and Latin, all in the space of two blinks of an eye.
Mom worked hard, making prickly crayons by hand and selling them for only twenty-one ha'pennies each. She had to push every crayon fourteen times.
Dad worked as a barista and earned only fifty-five stock options a day. We couldn't afford any pom-poms, so we made do with only a flash drive.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up gargantuan and generous.