Submitted for the approval of the Midnight Society: A gritty new drama called "PLAYGROUND."
The anti-heroine? A mother, coming up hard on her mid-thirties with the crow's feet and wine teeth to show for it, but still scrappy; the kind of gal who whose Old Navy Rockstar jeggings have seen their share of pudding stains in suspicious places.
The ingenue? A sweet, snub-nosed scene-stealer, three feet or so (think vintage Olsen, not Dinklage), with hope in his heart and one thing on his mind: Balls. (Think Fisher Price, not Fire Island).
The antagonist? Some tow-headed little bitch in a floral romper who thinks she can push mama's baby down when all he wants to do in life is climb the slide in wet shoes, JESUS CHRIST IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?
The comic relief? A pair of WASP yuppies playing "fromagerie" with their toddler, a never-ending game in which they loudly reject his surprisingly educated suggestions for soft cheeses from the Rhone Valley.
The network? On Demand, in my brain, forever.
Sleep tight now.