Ah, Mother’s Day. That annual event in which you pretend to be grateful for all the psychological damage your mother has inflicted upon you from day one of your helpless, flailing existence. She’ll even try to make you feel bad for being bitter by claiming she slaved over a hot stove and changed your diapers at the expense of her own happiness.
It’s all lies. First of all, slaving over a hot stove is infinitely preferable to bringing down prey in the wild or letting a five-year-old operate a gas burner.