Dear Eldest Son:
Since you like math so much, here are a few facts for you to contemplate. The average width of a toilet seat is 15.7 inches and the average head circumference for an almost twelve-year-old boy is 15 inches; therefore, with 0.7 inches of head room, I would like to know why you can’t manage to get on your knees, hug the toilet real tight and hit the target with your vomit. Out of my four children, only you are not capable of properly aiming your vomit. If your three-year-old brother can hold his own barf bucket steadily during a two-hour minivan excursion, throw up three times, and not get a drop on his clothes or his car seat, how does a sixth grader who completes math problems at a tenth grade level manage to not only miss the toilet completely but hit all four bathroom walls, the bathtub, the floor, the hand towels and the ceiling? The ceiling, really? How did you make your vomit defy gravity?
It was one thing when you were one-year-old, vomited all over yourself, smiled with delightful relief and started screaming once you felt that mushiness of your puke through your sleeper. You were a baby. Even when you were a four-year-old and couldn’t make it to the bathroom on time, I was grossed out, dry-heaving beside you, but I could understand your inability to control your gag reflex. But at as a middle school student, it is time show some self control, boy!
With each passing day as you get closer to the age of twelve, I realize that you are not likely to ever move out. You will never find a college roommate that will tolerate puke on the carpet, and you certainly won’t find a wife willing to aim your head towards the toilet. Dear son, I love you, but I don’t want to be cleaning up your vomit for the rest of my life. You will find a bucket, mop, and Lysol in the bathroom, please use these items accordingly.
Your Loving Mother
