Dear Jokster Daughter #2,
I absolutely cherish your wonderful sense of humor, always trying to make everyone laugh, always trying to be the center of attention. Even your little patty cake dance routine you've created to announce an upcoming fart for the family has us laughing, especially when you're frozen in the Saturday Night Live John Travolta stance at the end as the gaseous odor suddenly and simultaneously escapes your behind. I actually think you are talented and have been given a gift by God to make others smile and laugh.
At the same time, I'd like to remind you of something. You know how everyone in the world says you're JUST LIKE MOMMY? Well, I have a confession.
Last week was a doozy between work, the holidays and most horrifically that nasty ass stomach bug invading our house - do you remember sweet angel? So with all that stress, while you were at Daddy's house this weekend, Mark and I had a nice [over the top, wild, drink til' you're on your knees] kind of weekend, sweetheart. And one night, when we got home a little too late after an abundant amount of red wine, your precious gingerbread cookie was just STARING at me from the kitchen counter. I mean those beady little eyes Syd-Bo-Bid just would not let go of the hold they had upon me. And Mommy got mad.
So dearest Jokster Daughter #2, when you see this, I apologize. I didn't intend any harm, but then again, remember: Mark is a cop, and cops just play jokes. So when Christmas comes, and I pull out all the gingerbread cookies, please remember baby cakes, that you are just like Mommy. And Mommy is just like you.
I'm so, so sorry.