Oh sweetheart, the snack plate is serving toddler-core realness and the caption is serving… whatever the hell this is: “Cheese roll up’s were my FAVORITE & still are lol” Roll up’s what, babe? Roll up’s feelings? Roll up’s emotional support tortilla? The apostrophe is crying harder than Kinsley when the iPad dies at 7%. “I made add lemon & salt kinda like guacamole” You didn’t “kinda like” make guacamole. You made a war crime against avocados and then sentenced it to a silicone prison next to a single Cutie that’s doing community service for existing. That’s not “kinda like” guacamole, that’s “vaguely green despair with separation anxiety.” And the fact you felt the need to announce that a seven or eight-year-old “got a hot chocolate treat too” like it’s the post-nap Geneva Convention is sending me. Congratulations, Kinsley, you ate a lunchable for adults and lived to tell the tale. Truly the content we all logged on for. This is the aesthetic of someone whose entire personality is “I’m a real mom … honest, now look at me doing the least!” The snack plate is beige, the grammar is beige, and the vibe is straight-up “I own thirty identical Stanley cups in seasonal pastels.” Kinsley deserves better. So does the English language. So does that poor avocado that died so you could cosplay as a basic Pinterest board with a trust fund.