Dear Man,
It wasn't about the milk. It was the principle. You asked for something to drink at
nap time. I politely told you no but you could have some after
nap time. And then the fit happened. I offered you a drink of water. You not-so-politely refused the water. Almost an hour later of you screaming was not going to get you your desired milk. As hard as it was to listen to your tantrum, your refusal of water reinforced the fact that you would not die of dehydration in your sleep. And yes, my name is still mommy, I am just ignoring your screams of "
MOMMYMOMMYMOMMYMOMMYMOMMY!" At this point in time, it's just the principle of not giving in to you. I really don't give a hoot about the milk. I'd give you a cow if that's what it was about. But it's not. You may not realize it now but when you have your own tantrum-throwing child you will get it. And I will laugh my grandma *
ss off.
Until then,
I love you screams and all,
Mommy
****
To whom it may concern:
Or more specifically, the creator of those little ball things that are inside stuffed animals,
Yeah, what were you thinking? You apparently are not a woman, and if so, not a mommy. Because mommies? We wouldn't put something as choke-hazard as those little ball things inside our children's
stuffies. And you could also have not been a dog owner. Because you would have known. You would have known how much puppies like to chew. You would have known that puppies are intrigued by those d*
mn little balls. You would have known how much of a mess they would make once the reindeer or dolphin or bear #1 or stuffed animal of the day would create once the eyes and nose was chewed off. You would have known that once those cute little hard things that get the dogs attention in the first place are gone, the attention goes to the inside of the frog or bear #2. And that's where your ever-so-bright idea crumples. Because that is when those little ball things go all over the floor. And you were clearly never in non-carpeted household. Because you would have realized that once those little balls of death are let loose onto a non-carpeted floor, they roll. They bounce. They go all over the d*
mn place. And several sweepings and
vacuumings later, those little ball things are still under the couch, in the couch, under the entertainment center and in the corners of the rooms. Multiple rooms. And just for the record, they don't sweep up very well. And don't even get me started on what happens when you step on one or seventeen in a half-dazed sleep and about break your tailbone in an effort to stop the sliding. And if you had been one of said people, then you must have had a maid. And we could never be friends.
Signed,
Momma and Dog-owner in a little ball filled house
****
Dear Neighbor,
Hi. I know we have not really talked but last Halloween pretty much insured the fact that I would stay safely on my side of the street. Do you not remember me? Oh, well let me remind you. I'm the neighbor who last year had both the black and red supermen. I'm the one who really liked your red she-devil costume complete with realistic snake draped around your neck. I'm the one who brought my children to your candy bowl with no
FLIPPIN CLUE that the *shudder* thing *shudder* around your neck was real. Yeah, remember me now? Yeah, I'm the one who left her children on your doorstep while I backed off in a pale stupor after realizing that said thing was moving and flicking it's tongue out. Anyways, last year aside, I'll be the one standing on my doorstep while my husband takes our tots to your door. Because me? Yeah, I'm deathly afraid pee-my-pants terrified of those things without legs. I just don't think something that has no legs should be able to move on land, in water, up trees, and into small crevices. It's just not right for lack of a better word. So Happy Halloween to you from my side of the street to yours.
Signed,
Pale with little bladder control
****
Dear
HH,
Thank you. You have no idea how much it brightened it my tantrum-filled morning-turned-afternoon to find a bag of Snickers in the freezer. I love you. And your surprising ways.
Signed,
Your Snickers-eating-loving wife
****
Dear Snickers,
Why do you have be so gosh-darned good? And you rock my world frozen. Can you come out with a fat-free no-love-handle-inducing version of your delicious self? Oh, no? That's alright. I'm still munching away here.
Signed,
Your #1 Fan
For more Dear Someone letters, and to find out what a javelina is,
visit Shortmama at a Family of Shorts.
