In which I write an open letter

Dear Maizey, please stop trying to disembowel the vacuum cleaner. It is not going to literally suck off your fur. Believe me, if it could, I would have tried that already, just like they suggested in Reader’s Digest (complete with a picture!)

Dear Dustin, I know you love making cold coffee drinks — or, as I see it, something that resembles iced diarrhea — and I know you have to leave for work early. I also appreciate that you want to save time and money by NOT purchasing them from Starbucks. But, for the love of God, must you use the blender at 5am and wake up the entire house?!?!? (I only know this because Dustin is on vacation and therefore not crushing ice at 5am and — surprise! — the kids wake up at the much more reasonable hour of 7am. And now, God help me, I just said that 7am is reasonable.)
Dear Sydney, or as you are now officially known, Brute. Please stop being so fickle. I know that it’s a definitional characteristic of a 2yo, but you’ve always been preternaturally sweet and I get enough demands from your three older siblings. Wanting to wear panda-bear pajamas with feet all day? Fine by me. Insisting on rolling in mud followed by tromping through my just-vacuumed house? Not fine by me, and to prove it, I will out-tantrum your two-year-old ass when it happens. Got it?
Dear Allegra, You melted my heart when I took you for a haircut and you asked the stylist to make you look “just like mommy.”
Dear Photoshop, You’re fun. I like you. Let’s be friends!
xoxoxo, Erika
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