More Letters I Wrote In My Head
Or - More Proof Of My Insanity

Dear Barbie,

Enough already. I'm tired of walking into my bathroom and seeing all of you in my bath tub having a little party. Just yesterday there were no less than 10 of you in the tub! 10! That's a little extreme!

I understand you've been through a difficult time what with your break up with Fairy Boy, I mean Ken, but that's no excuse for the endless naked lesbian orgies going on in my bath tub. The party stops now. Get into rehab, get some counseling. Just get out of my bath tub you plastic whore!

Warmest Regards,
Judy

Dear Youngest Of My Offspring;

I somehow feel somewhat responsible for your obvious brain damage. Jumping on my bed while singing '10 Little Monkies Jumping On The Bed' is proof of your impaired mental facilities. You've fallen off the bed and whacked your hed on the dresser yet you continue to use my bed as a trampoline while singing that insane song and ignoring my constant drone of 'Stop jumping on my bed! Get off my bed!'. (I blame the selective hearing on your father's genetic contribution to you.)

I love you anyway, you bizarre little person.

Love,
Mom

Dear Oldest Progeny;

I must appologize for last night when I told you that Angry Albino Sock Monkey was actually your twin sister who has been kept in a cage in a lab until just recently. I honestly expected you to call me on that one, but you didn't. I was enjoying the fact that you were seriously considering the possibility as true so I just couldn't tell you the truth. (Please, please tell your teacher of your Evil Twin - I'd love to get that call from school.) You're generally a skeptical child so I was taken off guard by your sudden gullible moment, must be a recessive gene from your father's side - not that he's gullible, but your uncles could get a special parking space if they measured gullibility as a handicap.

For now, I will cherish the days that you believe you have an Evil Twin.

Love,
Mom