I began to hate my mom around that time, too. She had to get a job because her and my dad were partners in being retarded with money. She was so retarded with money in fact, that she did this while still maintaining a joint bank account with my dad. So on her first payday, he spent her whole paycheck at the casino. And she still didn’t open a new bank account to detach herself from his finances. I knew even as a 5 year old this was retarded.

Anyway, I spent a lot of time at Primrose daycare before and after school and was hardly ever home. I remember the daycare being mostly stimulation deprivation torture. There was absolutely nothing to do there. They played Disney's Hercules once and I thought it was the biggest piece of shit ever. A Chinese woman who worked 2 jobs, at Walmart and at a Chinese restaurant, that me and my mom saw often because we went to both places often, had gifted me a bunch of Crazy Bones and I remember spending most of my time at the daycare just staring at them. All the kids there were strangely asocial and there were huge age gaps so some of the kids at the daycare were more like grown ass men, like there was a Mexican dude there that I'm pretty sure was a senior in high school.
Because of this arrangement I was never able to hang out with kids after school. Another accompanying feature of this was that often in my life all of my friend's parents were divorced and lived far apart from each other, so I'd ask kids if they want to hang out and they'd say "I can't I'm going to my dad's house this week".
An uncle from my mom's side gifted me Roller Coaster Tycoon and an older kid on the schoolbus told me about the flash game website e-zone and got me addicted to the computer around this age.

But the more egregious reasoning behind beginning to hate my mom was that her job required her to travel often so it'd be my dad waking me up and driving me to and from the daycare. And my mom knew full well he was a complete psychopath but left me with him anyway. I would cry and beg her not to go and she would go anyway. On her very first day away, my dad was trying to crate our dog and the dog naturally hated being crated and was running away, like it'd do every morning. I caught the dog and presented her to my dad and he punched her out of my arms at the top of the staircase and she twisted and flailed screaming down the stairs.