I love you. I probably shouldn't, but I do. I worked at you for 4 years. It was a Love-Hate relationship.. but ever since I quit working there, it's more of a Love-Love relationship. You are delicious. I mean, really. YUM-EE.
Dear Unborn Baby,
You've kept me awake now.. every night this week. What's the matter? I give you all the food you could possibly want.. so I know that you're not hungry. You've made it so that even when I DO sleep, I have bizarre dreams like that you are born with a full mustache, or that I'm feeding you B.L.T's when you're an infant. What's up with that? Even when I try to knock us both out with Tylonol P.M- You insist on the jabbing and poking. Are you trying to tell me something? Like: "make Dad stop snoring, please!" or "Go ahead - Steal those covers, Mom". Or are you just preparing me for the next 18 years of sleeplessness?
Where have you gone? I keep misplacing you. Like today, when I tore apart my office to find a check that you put somewhere. Where did you put it??!! Two hours later, and you found it... right where it was supposed to be. Why didn't you look there in the first place? Why are you clumsier than usual? I stopped feeding you nicotine and booze.. and THIS is the thanks I get???! I'm losing you. Please come back to me.
Dear Possessed Toy Grill,
You sit in my office, surrounded by hundreds of other toys. YOU are the one that gives me the heebie-jeebies. Sure, you look harmless.. and you are even one of the children's favorite toys. But, you're not fooling me. You say things out of nowhere; when no one is around. Things like, "Come on! Let's fire up the grill!" You say it loud and you say it when I'm the only one in the building. I almost called the Police on you because I wasn't sure who was talking to me. (seriously) No, I do not want to play with you. Ever. I'm sorry that I hid you in the janitors closet. But, I just couldn't take your creepiness anymore. Why won't your batteries die?