Some letters

I sent this one:

Dear ___________,

David has come home the past two days claiming Tripp has hit him. I've told him to go to you or another adult when it happens. It seems to happen at recess. If Tripp continues to hit David I feel David has a right to defend himself .


I wish I could send this one:

Dear Mary,

I know you made a mistake and had Tommy over for a playdate instead of some kid named Tomas. My son knows your son and they play kickball together. I think your little shit-head of a kid has some serious issues. To throw a hissy fit in front of me, tommy and you whinning the entire time "I wanted Tomas not him" and then to storm off into the house whining that same mantra the entire time is uncalled for. Honestly, Mary I have never seen anything like that. I don't even get you. Were you drunk, or are you hopped up on prescription drugs? It was one or the other. All the time you stood there with me and watched the spectacle we call your son. You just said "he sure is mad" "wow, he's really upset" "did he just walk into the house and leave?" "tommy do you want to go inside?" Lady, are you nuts? I'm not sending my kid into your house with that freak of a boy. I expect a written apology from your son today. FYI the rest of your life with that kid is going to suck.

Have a nice life.

From the mom whose kids would never pull that kind of shit.

Letters to the family

Joe,

This is NOT a laundry basket.

It is a chair. The laundry basket is in the closet. I've seen you use it before. But look.....

there is a laundry basket waiting to go downstairs! Fancy that. Oh, and that basket under the window...how hard would it be to throw your shoes in there? By the way is it really necessary to have 3 pairs of hiking boots?

Brandy,


yes, you. Why are you eating socks again? Isn't that a little puppyish? I know, I know, why are the kids leaving their socks all over the place for you to eat them? If I told them once I've told them a thousand times...blah, blah, blah. Please stop eating socks, for me. Ok?

Kids,

See the picture above? In the upper left hand corner you can see parts of the Sorry game. Why is it out? You know I'm going to throw it away, don't you? I've been ignorning it for a week now. I guess your father has also. I'm not sure why Brandy hasn't eaten the portions of the Sorry game. Maybe she has. Maybe YOUR socks have made her not not hungry for little plastic things and cardboard this week. I have a feeling she may have eaten the yellow person thing-a-ma-jig though. The blue and green thing-a-ma-jigs are in the boys room. Why is that? Really, why?

Love,

your wife, the lady who tells you that you stink and gives you baths and treats, and your mom.

letters to the family

Dad,

There is this thing called a plate. You put your toast on it, THEN cut it and eat off THE plate. Also, I really don't care about Bank of America dividends.

Tommy and David,

We have had this conversation 1,000th's of times. You don't wear jeans ONCE and then expect me to wash them. You wear your jeans 20x THEN I wash them. Be a little more like your mom. It really pissed me off when I came in your room and saw this...........

You do realize that laundry basket was empty on SUNDAY! I'm going to start charging each of you 25 cents when I find unworthy jeans in the laundry basket.

Julia,

You tell your teacher YOU forgot your homework because your house is messy. Listen sister, you have papers strewn throughout the house. In the living room, kitchen, dining room and den. I've already recycled your homework once please learn your lesson and keep everything in one place. Also I'm sick of those little, strange, big headed girls you draw. Why must each one be cut into a little square. I threw them out. Whoops.

Felix,

You are a cat. Not a dog.



Joe,

The dryer IS NOT YOUR CLOTHES drawer. You do realize that it would be easier on you to put dry clothes in your bedroom rather then coming downstairs to get clean clothes. Oh and please clean out the cars. Example, when you take the dog on training runs in the creek, remove all the camoflauge thing-a-ma-jigs out of my car. There is a seat cushin and big-ass waders in there. My car smells like wet feet, wet dog and I think ass.