Having a mom like Helena Bonham Carter would be an absolute blast when you're a preschooler. Every day is dress-up day (albeit in some weird Raggedy Ann shit), your weird behaviour would be tolerated, probably even encouraged and there has to be some cool toys lying around when your dad is Tim Burton.
Then you get older, kids make fun of your mom for dressing like she stepped out of The Brother's Grimm and before you know it you're asking her to drop you off for school around the corner where no one can see you with her. Then you start telling your friends that you're really adopted or that she's the housekeeper and your parents are really a glamorous jet setting couple who are off in the South of France right now, thank you very much. Your mom will overhear these things and look at you wistfully, wishing for those days when you played Nightmare Before Christmas together and hung little skulls on the tree in December. Sigh.
