Dear Tooth Fairy,
A certain six-year-old expected you to bring the cash last night, and you failed to show.
Just because it's a busy time of year, you haven't wrapped presents yet, there's an article due, a book you're being paid to read, your kids are ingesting large numbers of Spaghettios and the paper boy is looking for a bonus, it doesn't mean you can just forget things like this.
All that laundry, meal-making, and slop to mop near the entryway mean nothing. I don't particularly care, either, that much of your time is spent trekking to the physical therapist, and for what? For her to ruin your knee forever, forcing you to waddle like you're elderly? And why is your left knee, which felt absolutely fine before that first appointment, now aching in a way that the right knee never did? What am I paying those people for, anyway? Seriously. At least I'm not picking up green marbles with my toes like that other woman. These therapists must have a comedy team creating their exercises. Green marbles! they say. A 39-year-old woman with an 80-year-old gait! they say.
Listen, Lady, you're not getting off the hook here.
On December 22, this kid earned the right to sing "All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth," but how can he when one is still under his pillow?
You flutter those wings in our direction tonight, or we're through. We'll contract out if we must, to get some real service around here.
Disgruntled in Grand Rapids