Today, crumpled in the bottom of my shit hole of a purse/bag, I discovered documentary evidence that I am--as long suspected--a terrible mother and person. Rather than retype that evidence word for word, I've captured it here in a photograph:
I don't need to tell you that I've (a) missed the six-day deadline by a considerable number of days; (b) not let anyone--much less anyone's mom--know (until now); or (c) "take[n] the time for this [allegedly] quick project."
Accordingly, I have not seen a "gratifying smile on [my] child's face when [she] open[ed] [her] very own mail," and no one to my knowledge has "[had] fun" as a result of this non-electronic chain letter.
But by far my favorite line is that failure to do this will disappoint children the world over, as if I were the train that broke down with all the toys and dolls and good things for little boys and girls to eat before the Little Engine That Could saved the day and dragged my sorry ass over the mountain. Or like I was hungover Santa Claus who slept through Christmas and smoked crack instead of distributing presents.
For as the letter notes, "it's really not fair to all the other kids who have participated and are hoping for their letters and stickers."
OH. MY. GOD. As if I don't have enough to feel guilty about, I have now been instructed to feel guilty that some First World kids I don't even know will be horribly disappointed when they fail to receive letters and stickers they've completely forgotten about!
That said, I'll give you one clue as to my first self-assigned task for the weekend: buying 7 packs of stickers, 7 envelopes, 7 stamps and doing literally everything else this letter says to do lest I end up in the burning flames of HELL.
Watch out moms: guilt, stickers, and passive aggression are coming soon to a mailbox near you.