Wolves. That's where it's at.

I bet wolf cubs don't talk back to their parents, I bet they respect the alpha papas and mamas, I bet they groom themselves and don't leave their dinner half gnawed or barely touched. Maybe wolf mums never feel like going on strike, effing off for their equivalent of a week long yoga/drinking/ crisp eating (delete as appropriate) fest with some solid pals or letting it rip, going native and howling at the moon (oh wait, they do do that last one, or is it just the males, or my childhood diet of Hammer House of Horror Films?). I strongly suspect that wolf mums are unflappable, and far, far better than us mere humans, what with our messing up at muddling through, doling out inconsistent telling offs because we lack the energy to nag to the point the message actually sinks in, so we end up back at square 1. Time for a cup of tea, or some sleep. #grumpymamaneedstoworkitout.