Dear Connor,
I love you, you smart, amazing, charming boy.  But if you don’t stop jumping out from behind doors, and from dark hallways, and from beside the couch, to scare the crap out of you sister, I’m going to lose my crap on you.  I realize that you find her screaming at the top of her lungs and then running away crying to be funny, but unless you find ME screaming at YOU at the top of MY lungs to be funny, you need to knock it the fuck off.   And also?  No matter how many times you ask/scream/demand that we move your bedroom into the playroom…it’s not going to happen.  That room is for EVERYONE.  So please, take the suitcase of clothes and toys BACK to your bedroom. 
Thanks lovey!
Mom

Dear Autumn,
For the love of all that is holy…PUT YOUR CLOTHES ON!  This “I love to be naked” phase needs to stop right.now.  If you would leave your diaper on, I wouldn’t have a problem with it.  But since you insist on taking your diaper off, whether it’s full of poo or not….It needs to stop.  Or else, I’m going to consider duct-taping your diaper closed.  Mommy cleans up enough poo from the dog.  And one more thing? Please stop throwing random things in the trash.  I’m tired of digging through gross diapers and banana peels to fish out your sippy cup.  It goes in the SINK, not the TRASH.  Please learn the difference!
Thanks honey!
Mommy

Dear Aiden,
My sweet, sweet baby, who has finally started sleeping through the night….I am so sorry that you hurt your head today when I sat you down on the floor after you were trying to push the power button on the t.v.   But honey?  That’s what happens when you have a tantrum and throw yourself backwards.  The hardwood floors are very unforgiving.  Sorry about that.  Mama wasn’t expecting you to tantrum already, or I would have sat you somewhere safer.  Apparently your sister has taught you well.   Oh, and just an FYI??  Mama’s hair is ATTACHED.  No matter how hard you pull….it’s not coming off.  Sorry ’bout that. 
Thanks boobers!
Mama

Dear Little Fetus,
Mama REALLY wants chili with potato fries tomorrow.  With onion, and peppers, and the whole bit.  Please, Please, let me keep it down.  Not that I don’t love bananas and applesauce and plain pasta with butter…but Mama could REALLY go for some food with FLAVOR.  So…you’ve had some advanced warning.  It’s coming.  Do what you can to keep from pushing it back up, would ya? 
Thanks so much
Mama (That lady whose stomach you hold the keys to)