So I need to tell you something. I think you are doing a really spectacular job being kids. Really, I do. But there are a few things we need to sort out. And I only bring this up because we are all adults here, right? We can have a constructive conversation about all this. Let's begin.
This last week wasn't our best. Many of my awesome plans for you were not met with the enthusiasm that I expected. In fact, you both took turns rejecting my ideas and excellent parenting skills. I'm not mad so don't worry about that. It's just that I hope to impart a few things to you so that in the future we might see eye to eye. Wouldn't that be nice? I think that would be nice.
About our Christmas pictures. Maybe you didn't realize that Mama really wanted a nice card to send out to our friends and family? Maybe you thought that I wanted to save some money? Were you body-snatched? I'm just wondering because the hell beasts that brought the Portrait Innovations studio employees to their knees on Sunday evening sure did resemble you two. Now I could be wrong. If I am wrong, of course I apologize.
And there was that one time when you both reacted viscerally to my dinner offerings. See, I was under the impression that you both enjoyed spaghetti. I am trying to remain calm because as you both know, your mama isn't the best cook. I've come to rely on your love of spaghetti, you guys. If you both now hate it, we run the risk of eating hot dogs and tater tots twice a week. You need to know this. So let's just all take a minute to re-think the throwing of spaghetti at each other when mama needs to use the bathroom real quick, ok? I want you to fully understand the ramifications of such behavior. Don't get me wrong, food fights are kind of awesome. I get that. But a spaghetti food fight is what some might call "going too far". Can we get on the same page with that?
So now I need you both to really listen up. The gagging game? It's disgusting. I mean for serious, dudes. It is foul. And Mr. Pants I am looking at you and giving you the mom eye for teaching this horrifying "game" to Plum. Let's keep in mind that your sister's gag reflex is quite powerful and so is your mama's. So when we are all hanging out and you guys start gagging yourself and thinking that you are hysterical until one of you (Plum) starts to barf? It makes mama want to die. I get that my less than calm reaction has egged you on. I know full well that getting a rise out of people is super fun. I've been there. But let's find a new way to get mama's blood flowing, ok? Because the gagging game is going down, my friends. If it's the last thing I do and as god is my witness and all that, I will end the gagging game. Mark my words.
Finally, I just want to remind you that I'm not mad about the tree. I mean, I know you are little people. I know it is a lot to ask of you to just leave the tree alone. I mean, it's beautiful and it sparkles and it has toys on it. And little silver strings that are delicious! I know this. But it shocks me a bit that the near-death experience you had with the tree yesterday didn't seem to deter you one bit. Do you even remember the fear in your hearts as you watched the tree come slamming down toward you? Perhaps it was the relief that washed over you as I flew across the room and put myself in between you and the tree that washed away that fear? Well dudes, I cannot promise that I will always be able to save you. So what is gonna happen each time you try and pull the lights off and the garland and the ornaments is that the tree is going to tip over on to you. You will not like this. In fact, you will hate it. And mama will feel like a failure and we will all cry. Let's skip that!
In conclusion, my darlings, don't worry too much. I've already decided on a Christmas card idea that is better than the first. Daddy is still a great cook and will make you dinners several times a week to balance out the tater tot overload and I will try and secure the tree better. But the gagging? I'm gonna need you to help me with that one. Because if I could change that I would. But it seems I don't have that kind of power. If I did, you wouldn't still be pooping in your pants. Which, by the way, I'm not mad about, either. Just to be clear.
I love you crazy people.