A Royal Pardon

Hearing you sob in your room about being a bad parent sounded like an impending speech I definitely didn't want to attend. Getting up to knock on your door was way too much effort, so I handled the crisis from right here on my sponge mattress. I fished an empty cardboard game sleeve out of my junk pile and dragged the tip of a stray wooden coffee stirrer across the plain back to scratch out a crude checkmark next to the word 'OK'. Using my foot, I nudged the card until it poked halfway out through my taped doorway flap. There, you're officially off the hook, so you can stop crying and let me game in peace.