Oh. No. She. Did. Not.

Dear Kansas Child Protection Services:

I'd like to file a formal complaint against my mother.

This morning, after deciding we'd woken up too early once again, she decided SHE needed a nap! Selfish, right?

You won't believe what she did next. After putting my brother down for a nap, she told me I needed "quiet time." Sir, I'm not sure if you are aware of what quiet time entails, but let me assure you. It is borderline torture.

First, she put up the dreaded gate. The one that keeps me from entering the living room. Next, she had the nerve to turn the TV on in my playroom. Seriously-who puts a TV in their kids' playroom? As if it wasn't bad enough to be stuck inside a room filled with all of my favorite toys, she then dared to turn it to my current favorite TV show: Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. I don't know if you've ever sat through the entire 25 minute length of this show, but for a 2 year old? It's miserable.

Don't you worry, though, Mr. State Officer. I found a way to get her back.

You see, since our bedroom & playroom are all the way on the other side of the house now, in addition to putting up a baby gate, my mom decided she needed to use a baby monitor as well. She doesn't think I pay much attention, but I've put many hours of study into this contraption. I've figured out that if I make noise, she can hear it from wherever she's at & the noise usually sends her running.

I decided I could handle being good for about 10 minutes. I bided my time carefully. I suffered through my TV show for a few minutes, played with a few toys, and found my stickers & promptly plastered them all over the walls. After giving my mom some time to fall asleep, I walked out into the hall between the playroom & my bedroom. I knew this would work, you see, because when she put my brother down for a nap, she didn't shut the door all the way. (Plus she made the mistake of leaving a toy in the hallway.)

Once I got settled with the toy, I started to play loudly. Right at the volume level where the monitor would pick up my noise. The purpose behind this was to make just enough noise to make my mom's half-asleep conscience wonder what the heck was going on. Once I figured she was half-way awake, I proceeded to stick my foot into an opening on the toy. Oh Sir, don't be too concerned. In all actuality, there is plenty of room for my foot in this toy. Anyways, back to the story. I stuck my foot in the toy & started screaming "Ow! Ow! Owwweeeee Momma. HURT!" When those first few rounds of shrieks didn't send her running, I decided to throw in a much feared word around our house. I picked back up with the Ow's & towards the end of the refrain, threw in a few "Uh oh. Poo-poo"'s as well.

Sir, I'm not sure if you've ever seen my mom. Yes, she may be on the thin side, but she is incredibly unathletic & honestly, downright clumsy. With this in mind, you should know that I often take advantage of these facts & purposely do something to make her run, just so I can enjoy the show. So, once she heard the dreaded "P-Word" across the monitor, a-runnin' she came.

So, Sir, I'll wrap this letter up. Naptime for my mom didn't go over so well, I'm still bitter about being forced to play with my toys & watch a show I love, and now, mom is punishing me for my fake injury-poop scheme I pulled in order to wake her up.

This is a valid reason for writing you a letter, is it not?

Sincerely,
Bear