A Letter to my Child...

Dear Matthew,

I love you, but I believe that you are trying to drive me to the nuthouse. In your gentle and sweet manner, you politely refuse to do anything that your father and I ask you to do. We have yet to find a consequence that you actually care about.

Last evening, you finally were climbing into the tub after cleaning up all your messes, and you threw your clothing behind you as you climbed in. And then you decided at that exact moment that you would remember to flush the toilet, which we have been hounding you about for months. You haven't flushed the toilet in eons. Well, congratulations, my boy. You flushed your shirt down the toilet. Luckily, I grabbed it just as it was swirling out of view and pulled it from the lake of pee. With my bare hands. You're welcome. The night before in the tub, you threw a full cup of water on me, while yelling, "Surprise!"

You also eat nothing. Nothing.

And you are naked way too often. Like right now, as you are sitting naked at the kitchen table happily punching small maple leaves out of paper with my scrapbook punch. I have not the energy to deal with you at this moment. I must collect myself first. I need a beer. Or valium. Or both.

I hope you turn out to be a valuable and contributing member of society, but I am not betting on it. As you were being fingerprinted for the local police as part of a "KidWatch" identity program, you told the policeman, "See you later." I fear that this may be a true statement.

Love, Mom