Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Dear Dora, We Need To Talk.
We need to talk.
I've been letting you into my home on a daily basis for the last nine years. Just when I think we're outgrowing you, bam, I have another kid, and there you are again, screaming at me to abre! At this point, I feel like we're totally BFF's. So I think I can tell you something important, and hopefully you won't be too offended.
You're getting on my nerves, girlfriend.
You're putting way too many demands on me. You need to stop yelling at me to stand up, stand up, STAND UP! I just want to sit here on the couch and drink my coffee and appreciate the fact that my head is sized proportionately to my body. I don't want to abre, salta, or corre. I want to sit here and check Facebook while my kids zone out. But I can't even concentrate on something as mindless as Facebook because you're screeching at me.
Also, I appreciate the fact that you are able to find volcanoes on your own without bothering your parents about it. I like that kind of independence. However, it does concern me that your parents let you and your cousins traipse around the rain forest with only a talking map to guide you. In fact, the whole situation seems like a bad peyote trip, and your parents don't seem to be supervising the situation at all.
Perhaps your pushiness is simply a reaction to being neglected by your parents. They obviously haven't taken you clothes shopping in a while. If you keep wearing that same belly shirt you're going to be as skankeriffic as Lindsay Lohan in no time. I see that you're often left to forage for your own food: blueberries, chocolate, Big Red Chicken. What little you find, Swiper steals. It's sad, really.