Judge them!

Judge them again for being terrible parents!

You judgy moms…I know you want to.

So yeah I agree, it’s not the best meal every day, or even every other day, but me I can’t imagine growing up without some McDonald’s once in a while.

I was clumsy when I was young. Kept busting my face. So my mother thought it’d be a good idea for me to go to ballet. After my parents broke up (they’ve since gotten back together) it was my dad’s duty twice a week to take me to my lessons, driving an hour to the studio, waiting an hour in the car outside, and then driving me home.

I hated those classes. My body was not built for ballet. My legs don’t hyper straighten. And while I tried my best because that’s what Chinese girls do, those Tuesday and Thursday evenings were demoralising. And I looked like sh-t in a leotard.

But there was always McDonald’s. On Tuesdays it was McDonald’s. A cheeseburger and fries and a coke for the road and then I’d tuck into my blanket and pillow in the cramped backseat of my dad’s embarrassing bright orange Ford Fiesta and nap until we arrived at the gates of ballet hell.

Are you supposed to associate fond family memories with fast food?

Perhaps this is why I turned out a degenerate, gambling gossip.

Maybe you judgy moms are right.

So the Brange kids will be f-ck ups too?

Another weekend, another trip to McDonald’s. Angelina is smiling broadly, Brad’s focused on the ordering, there’s a glimpse of the Chosen One in the back seat, and a phantom reflection of one of the Holy Twins too. Wearing a cap, probably Knox?

Are all of them in there?

Can you fit 6 carseats in one vehicle? How long does that take to pack them up get them all in there?

Don’t answer this. It’s not like I need to know.

Photos from GSI Media and Hot Shots Worldwide/Splashnewsonline.com