Please come back to North Carolina and play with Kaden. I know he pushed you quite often, and that he was terrible at sharing, but the truth is he adores you. He kept trying to throw his soccer ball to your picture today (and was quite frustrated that you weren't catching it). During bath time, I could tell his splashing just wasn't the same. I hate that you and your cute baby brother have to live so far away. Colorado's too cold. Convince your parents to move here instead.
Love,Your Aunt Katie
Dear School Secretary,
Let's just say that our 30 second telephone conversation, combined with your snide tone, didn't make me mourn the fact that Friday is my last day at work. Did no one teach you the golden rule as a child?
The teacher who thinks she's already stepped up to the plate by not getting a pay increase during the last four years
P.S. A lot of people, myself included, think you are a meanie.
P.P.S Since we're being honest, let me get a couple more things off my chest. Every time you get on the intercom and ask a student to come "have your picture made," a small part of my soul dies. It's "have your picture TAKEN." Southern idiosyncrasies are only charming when nice people have them. Oh, and also, sometimes when you get on the intercom and say, "Teachers, please excuse the interruption," I yell at you, even though you can't hear me. I do this with students present. "NO!" I scream, as I shake my fist furiously. Because really, let's face it, nine times out of ten is the interruption REALLY excusable? I didn't think so, either.
Dear Grant and Jessie Jones,
I think I have single-handedly devoured an entire tier of your wedding cake. Thank you for getting married, so I can gorge myself with lard-topped divinity. I know it was Loni who gave the cake to my mother-in-law, but without your joyous union, my current calorie fest would not be possible. I owe it all to you!
Someone who is very sorry we're leaving Kinston just as you're moving here
I hope you're not expecting to see any wedding cake in the freezer when you get home. No, seriously, I hope you're not . . . Also, I haven't been on a scale, but I think there's a high probability that I'll be ten pounds heavier by the time you return on Friday evening. You may have a hard time recognizing me, so I thought I should give you fair warning.
The woman who eats another piece of cake every time she starts to feel lonely
Dear Students Who Wrote Nice Things on My Evaluation Forms,
I love you, too. I am glad that I made a difference for some of you. On the way to school each day, I prayed that the time I had to spend away from Kaden would be spent blessing the lives of someone in some way. I know that you are capable of great things. Believe in yourselves! I will miss you (even though I won't miss some of your classmates).
Dear Baby Fat Roll That Used to Be on My Toddler's Wrist,
Where did you go? When did you leave? The other day as I cuddled with Kaden and read him a story, I saw that you were missing, and I started to cry. I know my little one has to grow up; I just wish it didn't have to happen so fast (and while I wasn't looking).
A Nuzzler of Baby Fat Rolls
Dear Single Parents,
Since the beginning of December, I have joined your ranks four nights a week. I don't know how you do this all the time, but mad props to you.
One Tired Mommy
Dear Publishers of F is for Farm,
My eighteen-month-old received your book as a Christmas gift, and he adores it. I adore it, too. There's just one thing: Why did you choose a pedophile to pose as the farmer inside the barn? All of the pages have such darling photos, pop-ups, and moving parts. Imagine my surprise when my little boy opened the interactive barn page, only to see this harrowing sight staring back at us:
That's just plain creepy. Perhaps you had a hard time finding a suitable farmer to pose for a photograph. Allow me to make a suggestion: Drive to central Washington. Locate a little town called Moses Lake. I can think of at least a half a dozen older gentlemen who can do the trick. One of them is my own grandfather.
A slightly disturbed bedtime story reader
Dear Research Papers,
I know you need to be graded. I promise you will be finished by Friday afternoon, when grades are due. Right now I have more important matters to attend to, like writing this blog, perusing Pinterest, and signing random petitions to stop Internet censorship.
A Procrastination Pro