Dear young gentlemen,
As your parent, I take immense pride in the journey we’ve shared together. Your spirited nature, intelligence, and kindness fill my heart with joy that’s often beyond description. However, I must address a pressing issue—your knack for chaos has tested my patience.
In response, I’ve created a mental sanctuary, a “mind palace,” where I retreat whenever the chaos becomes overwhelming. Picture a quaint cottage, adorned with stylish decor from renowned designers, overlooking a serene ocean. This idyllic abode is free from clutter, toys, and disturbances—just a gentle breeze and the soothing sounds of nature.
I cherish this space, and I find myself escaping there each time I encounter another disaster in our home. The cottage is filled with warm colors and tranquil furnishings, from a pristine coffee table to an elegant fireplace. Here, books lie undisturbed, embodying the quiet that I long for amidst the storm of our daily lives.
Yet, the bliss is short-lived. I’m jolted back to reality when I discover the aftermath of your latest escapade—like the time I found three inches of toilet water flooding the hallway, courtesy of an ill-fated flush involving a squirrel.
As a precaution, I’ve begun documenting everything you break. Consider this a gentle reminder: please stop. Or one day, when you’re all grown up, I might just pay a visit and… rearrange things a bit.
Imagine me arriving with a warm smile and a plate of cookies, only for you to realize that while you’re enjoying a snack, I’m secretly pouring a mysterious liquid into your shoes. You’ll be puzzled by the smell for days, only to discover the truth when you’re in a rush to leave for a meeting.
I might also take apart your lawn mower and repurpose the blade for, let’s say, a little tree trimming. Other surprises could involve boiling a less-than-fresh animal in your favorite pot or turning off your hot water heater. Your gadgets, from phones to tablets, won’t be safe either.
When you’re distracted by the chaos I’ve created, I’ll leave sticky fingerprints on your furniture, carve my name into your dining table, and hide unexpected items in peculiar places. I might even remove all the batteries from your devices and deposit them into your fish tank—just to keep things interesting.
And my antics won’t cease at daylight. Oh no, I’ll be back at night, perhaps placing a hot iron on your floors—just long enough to warp them. Couch cushions will become unstuffed, and sweet substances will invade your electronics. You may think I’m just being playful, but trust me, it’ll be quite the mess.
You might breathe a sigh of relief thinking, “At least my car is safe!” Not so fast—I might have taken a garden trowel to it on my way in.
But let me clarify: no matter what possessions get damaged, my love for you remains unwavering. You could cause a disaster of monumental proportions, and I would still be honored to be your mother. However, I will keep track of all your “accidents.”
With all my love,
Mom
P.S. About those cookies I brought? I might have given them a little taste test before your arrival.
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