This letter from a mum to her kids is going viral. And we can see why. Hilarious.
Dear Beloved Children Who Insist Their Lives Are Really Really Hard,
Oh, my sweet pups.
You have no idea what you’re talking about.
The two of you live with both parents in a lovely home that has a snack selection that rivals the average Whole Foods store.
I was the sixth kid in my family, the last one born after three marriages between my parents. It was the 1970s and I was the last of the litter, so obviously I wasn’t automatically fed each time I craved a snack; I had to forage. I was lucky my parents ever remembered my name.
And if I ever whined to my mum during dinner that “this chicken nugget is too bumpily and isgustink” then pushed it away in a huff? I wouldn’t be here today to tell you that you will eat the damn nugget like it’s a savory golden fruit the gods plucked from the Heavens and personally handed down to you on a BPA-free platter made of diamonds and Minecraft blocks.
What was that? You're thirsty? You want me to get you an ergonomic Thermos to fill with cold filtered water from the fridge? Sorry, but I'm too busy right now, lost in fond memories of the lukewarm tap water lightly flavoured with whatever happened to fall into our well that season, served in cups Grandma and Grandpa got for free at the petrol station. You'll have to get it yourselves.
Speaking of The Good Old Days, when you pout and complain that the house is too cold but your bathrobe selection is alllll the way upstairs in your bedroom, I recall the fact that I spent eighteen years inhaling lead paint and the fumes of generic brand cigarettes with the filters broken off in a tiny ranch-style house where the thermostat was controlled by someone who lived through the Depression era. Close your trap and get off your ass kid -- it's about time you learn the term "Darwinism."
For Christmas you finally got a Frozen doll, the approximate value of a small third world country, but a mere two months later it wasn't enough. You asked, "Why can't she have a friend?" I'll tell you why: because when I wanted new toys I had to use my allowance or paint friendly faces on rocks I found in the back yard. Why don't you go make a new doll out of doll parts from the one hundred other non-Frozen dolls littering your bedroom -- excuse me, I mean littering The Playroom That Takes Over The Entire Floor?
Also, "Summer Camp" for us was wandering down to the local park in the hopes that someone was there to play with, other than the hippies who smelled funny and always asked whether we had any extra Fruit Roll-Ups on us. "Camp" ended when we heard our parents ring the bell, or when it got dark enough for it to be almost dinnertime. My siblings and I never petitioned for more than that, because we were smart enough to already know the answer (Hint: it rhymes with " Shmell Shmo").
You guys want me to spend my hard-earned money to rent you a movie because there's "nothing on" the 472,000 channels playing on the two flatscreen TVs you are currently reclined in front of while I wash yet another load of dishes/laundry/household filth you accumulated? We didn't even have a colour TV until I was in high school, never mind Foxtel. Did I complain about having to walk 20 minutes to my friend's house if I wanted to watch something?