August 5, 2014

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Dara “Danger” McCrory
Chief of Security
The Lawrence School for Gifted Babies

Dear Mrs. C,

What with rampant Legos and crayons being strewn out on the floor (amongst other things), it isn’t always easy to make sure that our charges are safe and sound. In fact, just the other day, I stepped on a Lego when walking to the kitchen to make coffee, and I began to invent curse words while hobbling over to the couch to nurse my wounds. (I just realized that perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned that. My apoligies.)

I wanted to take the time to write you today about your daughter Jane, and how proud I am that she has decided to protect your own home by making “obstacle courses” with your husband. (Isn’t that a cute idea? It reminds me of watching “Double Dare” as a child, and wishing that I could pull a flag out of a pool of green sludge so that I could win the Sony Walkman.) He has sent me a description of her doing so, which I wanted to relate:

“So, I’m sitting on the couch, eating my oatmeal and watching ‘Zerby Derby’ while I hear her clattering around in the bedroom. After a moment, she comes out with a big grin on her face.

‘Dad, it’s done!’ she says. ‘Come to the obstacle course!’

Nodding, I put my breakfast aside and follow her to the hallway. There, and leading into both of our bedrooms, she has amassed a great parade of blankets and toys. She leads me to her Disney Princess car, and points at it.

‘Okay, dad. First, you have to eat the chocolate car!’

‘The whole thing?’

‘Yes.”

‘Okay…’

I pretend to eat the car, which makes her laugh.

‘Oh, it’s DELICIOUS. And princessey.’

Afterward, she leads me to the bookshelf, where she has crammed her blankets.

‘Now, you have to rescue one of The Twins from the falling piano,’ she says.

‘Oh, I see…”

‘Hurry, dad! The piano is FALLING…”

The Twins, of course, are what she calls two of her baby blankets. I nod, then grab one dramatically.

‘I’ve saved one!’ I exclaim, waving it around. ‘Where do we go next?’

‘Now, you have to jump over the lobster by the toilet.’

The Lobster is a toy motor that goes to a building set. Nodding, I do so, acting frightened.

‘Oh no! It’s going to pinch me!’

‘It’s okay, dad. It’s a cute lobster, and a good friend.’

Next, she has me rescue a colored puff ball from underneath a cup. The cup, of course, is another piano, and I wonder what the deal is with rogue pianos in the house. After saving it, I am taken to our bedroom, where I am asked to sit and have a laundry basket placed on my head.

‘Now who do you look like, dad?’ she says.

‘I don’t know,” I say.

Jane laughs. ‘You look like a crazy person!’

I, of course, am inclined to agree.

Isn’t that wonderful? I, for one, am pleased and proud to know that your household will be safe and sound with Jane on the job. When she is old enough, I would recommend the “Home Alone” movies for inspiration, or better yet, “Raiders of the Lost Ark”. My request for funds to make a giant rolling boulder for the front door have been repeatedly denied, but I keep trying. (I guess you might call it a ‘Sisyphean Task’! Oh, I amuse myself.)

Sincerely,

Dara “Danger” McCrory
Chief of Security
The Lawrence School for Gifted Babies

July 18, 2014

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Francine Wallace Smythe
Chief Pillow Fort Architect
The Lawrence School for Gifted Babies

Dear Mrs. C,

Before he designed Fallingwater and the Guggenheim, the inimitable Frank Lloyd Wright was said to have spoken the following:

“One’s tools may best be steel and stone, but something there is about a pillow fort, its fluffy mysteries inspiring child and teddy bear alike.”

Although the source cannot be verified, reading that quote was a watershed moment in my budding career as an architect. Now, I proudly say that I fulfill my dreams every day, assisting toddlers with constructing pillow forts at the Lawrence School. Lately, I have been assisted by your daughter and your husband, and wanted to pass along my observations regarding their work.

According to your husband, Jane will eat her breakfast foods and will often ask to construct some sort of squishy edifice on the couch, usually with blankets or throw pillows. She calls these constructions “soft houses”, and afterwards, she will crawl under them with Stinky the Blanket and her stuffed animals. “Three Little Pigs” is often played, with your husband being The Big Bad Wolf, or a game called “Cave-In”, where the pillows fall all around her and close her in.

“Dad, dig me out!” she will cry in a muffled voice. “I can’t see!”

(“Cave-In” is sometimes preceded by “The Monster Game”, where your husband acts like a monster and knocks the pillows down. He calls it “therapeutic”.)

When pillow forts are not being constructed, the two will build a “tunnel house” on the couch, which involves the collapsible tunnel you purchased for her, along with more pillows and blankets. Unfortunately, your cat Vladimir seems to enjoy this more than she does, and will crawl into the tent before she does.

“Chub, get OUT of the TENT!” she will say. “Dad, Chub won’t get out!”

“He can stay in there,” your husband purports to say. “Or just get in there with him. He’s just a kitty; don’t let him bully you around.”

“He is a bully,” says Jane. “And he eats my pancakes, dad.”

Eventually, the situation is resolved peacefully, with your husband folding up the tunnel and blankets to put them away. Vladimir, however, always seems to be the most disappointed by this, and goes off to sulk on your bed.

In all, I would say that this is quite the auspicious beginning for our young architect-in-training! Should you have time, I would suggest taking her to the Frank Gehry popsicle stick exhibit that is being held this weekend at your local art museum. I am certain that she will find it interesting, not to mention delicious.

Sincerely,

Francine Wallace Smythe
Chief Pillow Fort Architect
The Lawrence School for Gifted Babies

June 4, 2014

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Billy Ray Thompkins III, M.A.
Exterminator
The Lawrence School for Gifted Babies

Dear Mrs. C,

Well dog my cats, but ain’t it a hot one? What with all the heat an’ the rain we’ve been havin’, it’s like everythin’s gotten just like the Amazon basin, which I was watchin’ about on the tee vee the other day. You ever watch that Discovery Channel? Well, there’s these bugs that are about the size of my blue tick coon hound, Rebel? I kind of wish that we had some of them critters here, just so’s it could drum up a bit more business. I don’t know how good the sprays would work on them thangs, but if they got away, I could always run ’em over with my truck. A man’s got to think outside the box in this business, yessir.

Anyway, the reason why I’m writin’ you today is because your old man and your daughter were helpin’ me with the ant and spider problems they’ve been havin’ at the school. I don’t think your husband really cares, honestly; kind of strikes me as an odd fella, always takin’ ’em outside and settin’ ’em free, like they’s babies or somethin’. But your daughter told me good and loud how much she doesn’t like ’em:

“Mom and I don’t like ants,” she said, clutching her blanket.

“Ants are harmless, sweetie,” said your husband, clackin’ on his computer like a monkey. “You can just take them outside.”

Unlike your husband, that little darlin’ of yours had got the right attitude. Hell, she even helped me worsh the porch before I started sprayin’! She’s a fine helper. But even more than ants, she hates spiders, especially the cobwebs they leave behind:

“What are cobwebs?” she asked. “I don’t like them.”

“Spiders leave them behind, cutie,” said your husband.

I glared at him then, which made the little hippie shut up good. He don’t know nothin’, ’cause they ain’t left behind by spiders, nosir; they’s left behind by COBS. I seen a cob once, a-scuttlin’ across the floor, and it made a squeakin’ sound like ah never forgot, kind of like when you step on a dog toy. Ah didn’t tell her that though, ’cause ah don’t want to scare the little darlin’. What ah did do is let her grab the broom and sweep them webs out of the corners! She loved it, even though your husband shook his head like we was crazy.

“May Buddha forgive you,” he said.

Beggin’ yore pardon, ma’am, but there’s somethin’ wrong with that man. Get him to church pronto.

Anyway, there shouldn’t be any more problems at the school with the creepy crawlers until next year. Ah included mah card if you need anything, though. As the late great Whitney Houston said, “I believe the children are our future”, so we need to make sure that they’s safe from anythin’ that bites or buzzes or slithers around on the floor. Also from hippies. They’s the reason it’s all goin’ to hell in a handbasket.

Sincerely,

Billy Ray Thompkins III, M.A.
Exterminator
The Lawrence School for Gifted Babies

May 12, 2014

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Reggie “Smokestack” Johnson
Trolley Conductor
The Lawrence School for Gifted Babies

Ever since I was a little dude, I’ve really dug on the choo choo. I love everything about it: the smoke, the way the engines roar, the way you kind of bounce all around on the tracks like one of those bobbleheads when you go at a good clip. Man, even the bugs that fly into your mouth sometimes are pretty awesome (unless you get one of those big green ones which taste like mint and are pretty gross). I’ve wanted to be a train conductor ever since I saw “Thomas the Tank Engine” at a friend’s house when I was sixteen. We were hitting the wacky pretty hard, you know, and were sitting on his bean bag chair, watching the rolling eyes of the train characters, mesmerized by their frozen faces.

“Look at that, dude,” said my friend, rolling his eyes around and talking like one of those British guys. “‘Cor blimey, Thomas needs to get the vicar to Wimpole Street in time for tea! Pip pip! Tally-ho! Waaaaagghhhh…”

Yeah, he made fun, but I knew that that was what I wanted to do with my life! And even though I was bummed-out to learn that the real engines didn’t speak, I have learned to count my blessings, you know? Just like the scattered toys I pass day after day in the playroom, taking children from class-to-class on my tiny train, jingling the small brass bell as I go. I love that thing.

So, I’m writing today because your husband likes to let me know just how much your daughter enjoys playing trolley with him each morning. That’s pretty cool. He says that she will want to line pillows up on the bed, then “take tickets” from him and her stuffed animal friends while they go to “The Clock Store”, “The Candy Store”, and best of all, “The Closet Store.” On their way, he says that they sing songs from “Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood”, and making “Chugga chugga” sounds as they go. She will also demand that he “stamp his ticket”, and that the journey will not begin until it is done. That’s awesome! Sometimes I make “chugga chugga” sounds on the bus on the way home, staring out the window:

“Woo woo!” I will say, moving invisible levels and knobs in front of me. “All aboard!”

(For some reason no one will sit near me when I do this, but oh well! I’m having fun. Living life, bro.)

Today, they went to “The Chair Store”, and when they got there, everyone picked out a chair to take home. Jane got a purple chair, and your old man got a black one. As for the animals (which included characters from “Doc McStuffins” and “Peep and the Big Wide World”), they chose “soft” chairs in various pastel colors, like pink and stuff. Then, when they loaded up everything, they went to the “Ice Cream Store” to finish off. It was a good time apparently, even though her stuffed Chirp rolled off the bed, and “Lamby”, some lamb-thing from “Doc McStuffins” had to save her:

“I will save you, Chirp!” she said.

It was like that movie “Cliffhanger”, man. Stallone? Awesome.

Anyway, because she was all courageous and stuff, I’ve made her a “Junior Conductor”, and let her ring the bell when I drive them the five feet or so to the table for their snacks. She’s a natural, and I think that her teachers are going to replace me by the end of the week. Ha ha ha! They like to kid, those teachers.

Oh! Almost forgot, because of Tyler “Chainsaw” Jenkins’s “paste eating-accident” on the tracks, the trolley will be down for the remainder of the week for clean-up. Someone has also tied a bear to the tracks, ‘perhaps to emulate “The Perils of Pauline,”‘ said one teacher. I don’t know what that means, but I think it sounds pretty cool. That kid is just misunderstood.

Sincerely,

Reggie “Smokestack” Johnson
Trolley Conductor
The Lawrence School for Gifted Babies

May 8, 2014

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Antoine Frommage
Head Chef
The Lawrence School for Gifted Babies

Dear Mrs. C.,

Wow, how about that weather we’re having? Up and down, down and up, hot and cold, cold and hot…all this yo-yoing has wreaked havoc with my sinuses! As I’m still a little jet-lagged from my trip back from the Tokyo Fish Market, I hope that you’ll forgive the lateness of my reply, and possibly the smell of this missive (Albacore waits for no man!). As a firm-believer in farm-to-table dining, I expect only the best foods to grace the tables of our toddler charges, and consider it a sacred duty to travel the globe in search of them. Even though they’d be perfectly content with pizza or peanut butter and jelly, it is my goal to refine their palates to the point where they too can argue the merits of Spanish vs Iranian saffron over Duplo blocks, and hopefully not have some tiny, mustachioed Philistine from Zagat accuse them of dispensing gustatory poison.

But to get to the point, I wanted to inform you of your daughter’s eating behavior here at our school. For the last four years, your husband has been in our employ, cobbling together what meals he can from his small repertoire. Yogurt popular for some time, along with macaroni and cheese. Lately, however, he has began trying to introduce more exotic fare into her diet, such as beef stir fry or Palak Paneer. However, despite his strongest efforts, he simply cannot please the three year-old critic sitting in her tiny chair, her desired Michelin stars as elusive as the peak of Everest itself.

“Have some Palak Paneer honey,” he reports saying. “It’s from India!”

“Blegh, dad! Blegh!” she said, pushing away her plate. “I want a pouch! And your food is stinky!” She then reportedly nabs packages of goldfish crackers to take into the living room, eating them contentedly while watching “Doc McStuffins.”

“The Doc is IN!” she bellows, her mouth full of half-chewed crackers.

Despite trying to argue with her that toddler cannot survive on pouch alone, he has done what he can find foodstuffs that are not only pleasing to the palate, but also nutritious as well. Your suggestions of more vegetable fare have met with some success, especially with peppers and broccoli. Your husband reports that she will sometimes wish to help him prep dinner, shucking corn and eating the ears raw in the kitchen. Occasionally, these are even plopped into the pot. Alas, it can be hard, but he soldiers on.

Sadly, “Hummus Fest 2014” had to be canceled next week, so please find enclosed a permission slip to attend our presentation “Jicama and You”, which will be held in its place. Until then, happy eating, and we hope to see you there!

Sincerely,

Antoine Frommage
Head Chef
The Lawrence School for Gifted Babies

April 8, 2014

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Superman
Chairman
The Justice League of America
c/o The Lawrence School for Gifted Babies

Dear Mrs. C,

Recently, it has been brought to my attention that your daughter Jane is interested in becoming a superhero like myself. I must admit that the dangers of the profession are very real, but in the end, saving the world from giant apes and alien invasions makes it all worthwhile. I myself make several weekly trips to the Lawrence School to rescue cats from trees, so I like to keep tabs on potential recruits there for future inclusion in the league.

According to your husband, Jane reported to him that your home was being menaced by an evil wizard, and that she needed to liberate the magic Ring Pop and the golden candle egg from him to avoid future catastrophe. So, she requested that he tie one of her blankets around her neck to serve as a cape. After doing so, she informed him that “the knot was too big”, so he had to make it smaller. I myself experimented with the “knot method” of tying capes when I was a superboy, and can attest that knot size can make a difference when fighting the likes of Lex Luthor (which is why I had Ma sew it into my shirt). However, once he adjusted it, it was off to fight crime she went. However, she had to rescue her friend Chirp the robin from being “stuck in honey” beforehand.

“Fly me, dad!” she said. “Chirp is stuck in honey!” So, your husband picked her up and flew her over to the blanket pile where the stuffed bird was “sinking” into a pile of blankets. Reaching down, she lifted her triumphantly out of the pile, then took her to the safety of the coffee table.

“Yay! Chirp is saved!” she said. “Now let’s get the golden egg, dad! Fly me!” Again, doing his best Southwestern Airlines impression, your husband then took her over the the mantle where the object was set. Taking it, she then asked to be flown over to the “Magic Ring Pop”, which apparently granted mystical flying powers to the wizard.

“Let’s get it dad!” she said. “It has magical flying powers!”

So, after getting the ring, Jane put it on her finger, and then requested to “fly by herself”, which involved “whooshing” around the living room with her arms outstretched. Watching her do so, your husband then reported that she said that the wizard was crying because of his missing treasures.

“He is sad, dad,” she said. “We must give him a hug.”

“Well, tell him that we’ll give them back if he promises to change his ways,” he said. “And hugs are good.”

“Okay.”

So Jane talked to the wizard, who did indeed promise to mend his ways. And because of her kindness, he allowed her to keep the treasures. Then, all three of them went to have tea in her bedroom.

As Pa used to tell me when I used my super speed to milk the cows, “that’s the way you do it, son.” Please know that I am very pleased at how she handled the situation, and look forward to having her join us at the Hall of Justice. Please also let her know that Wonder Woman wishes for her to have a ride in her invisible jet at her earliest convenience.

Sincerely,

Superman
Chairman
The Justice League of America

March 31, 2014

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Antoine Frommage
Head Chef
The Lawrence School for Gifted Babies

Re: “The Butter Incident.”

Dear Mrs. C,

Ah, Spring! How fresh eet all is in my mind, being a young boy in zee cafe, sitting on my father’s knee as he spoke of zee joys of quiche and souffle baking! I remembair his curled mustache and beret, his ascot and striped shirt, and how he ended every sentence with a loud AW HAW HAW! He was in zee resistance during zee war, and was quite good at baking grenades into croissants to give to zee SS. (“Vive la France!” he would say, every time a Nazi exploded.) Ah, but he was hit by a flying baguette during my tenth year, and I saw no more of my perè. We mourned him with accordion music, and copious amounts of smoking undair a street light. Ah, oui…”La mer…Qu’on voit danser le long des golfes clairs…A des reflets d’argent…La mer…Des reflets changeants…”

Sorry. I often get, ah…how you say, “sentimental” around this time of year. (Eet ees his birthday.) But to get to zee point, I wanted to write and discuss my extreme displeashair about a certain incident in zee kitchen with your daughtair, Jane. It seems that, when your husband is assisting with pressing zee Gruyère cheese, she will go to zee kitchen and steal zee buttair from zee refridgerator! Zen, she will sit and watch zee “Yo Gabba Gabba” while eating it off her fingairs! Zees ees, how you say…a catastrophe, not to mention quite disgusting!

To remedy zees, I have asked your husband to put zee buttair up highair on zee shelf, which he has done. But, being an ingenious leetle monkey, she will bring her small IKEA chair into zee kitchen to reach eet! Shall I keep eet undair lock and key? Surely eet will melt, but as I am at zee end of my rope, I do not know what else to do! Your husband ees about as useful as zee maginot line! Zee situation would be amusing, but for zee fact zat I cannot churn zee buttair faster zan she can eat eet! Mon dieu!

Please, for zee love of Jerry Lewis, please tell zee child to stop! Also, please accept zees baguette in memory of my perè. Adieu!

Sincerely,

Antoine Frommage
Head Chef
The Lawrence School for Gifted Babies

March 25, 2014

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Clodetta Bacon-Chang
Director of Toddler Affairs
The Lawrence School for Gifted Babies

Dear Mrs. C,

They say that “April Showers Bring May Flowers”, and let me tell you, MRS. C, I say bring on the rain! Brr! It sure has been a cold one, hasn’t it? I am SO ready for this summer! I’m sure that your family is as well!

Please find enclosed your quarterly report for your child, JANE. We have changed the grading criteria for this semester, reflecting your child’s change from “polywog” to “froglet.” So exciting! Let’s begin, shall we?

Architecture: (A) Jane is fond of building towers out of blocks and markers, stacking the latter by their caps until they topple over and scatter on the floor. Your husband is often party to this building, and has noted the following:

“Yes, she’s definitely the foreman. I’ll help, but I never put the blocks in the right way. She’ll tell me when to do it, and where. And if I don’t do a good job? Believe you me, I hear about it: ‘DAD! NO! NOT LIKE THAT!’ And then the tower gets knocked down. It’s ego-crushing.”

Art: (A+) Jane’s progress in art has been astounding this quarter! Not only does she enjoy making Play Dough snakes with her father, but she also enjoys drawing you and your husband with markers and crayons. Your husband’s note:

“I don’t know how many times she’s asked me to draw ‘Peep and the Big Wide World’ characters for her. She’s drawn a few that were better than mine, actually! Also, she’s quite the sculptor with Play Dough. Animals, food…poop. Yes, we sculpt Play Dough poop on occasion. I didn’t encourage this. Really. Well, maybe I did a little.”

Reading: (A) Jane loves to read, especially when the subjects are kittens, jumping on the bed, or belly buttons. She has also taken to asking to have “Hello Kitty” stories told to her, which involve herself, “Hello Kitty”, “Doc McStuffins”, and her cousins going on adventures and eating Chef Boyardee pasta. A favorite of hers involves a search for “Dancing Santa Claus” which turns out to be staying in the basement. Another note from your husband:

“On average, I tell at least five a day: ‘Hello Kitty and Jane Go to Grandma’s’; ‘Hello Kitty, Jane, and Doc McStuffins have a Slumber Party’; ‘Hello Kitty and Jane eat ABCs and 123s’! I’m working on ‘Hello Kitty and Jane Solve the Ukrainian Crisis’, currently. Putin gets a big hug.”

Aren’t they all getting so big? Gosh, it makes me feel old, even though I haven’t hit 25 yet! Please also make note of and fill out the following form regarding our Easter presentation of “Little Bunny Foo Foo.” Some parents find the bopping of the field mice’s heads as being too violent, so we have changed the words to “hugging them by the shed.” Thanks for understanding! Have a great day!

Sincerely,

Clodetta Bacon-Chang
Director of Toddler Affairs
The Lawrence School for Gifted Babies

March 19, 2014

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Robert F. Stroud
Aviary Manager (“Big Bird”)
The Lawrence School for Gifted Babies

Dear Mrs. C,

This letter is to inform you of a recent altercation here at the Lawrence School, involving a hapless swallow, your husband, and your three year-old daughter, Jane. As Big Bird of our aviary, I take great pride in raising free-range chickens and pigeons for the school, and it always gladdens my heart when I hear that one of our young charges has been kind to one of our feathered friends. Thinking back to raising pigeons in Alcatraz, it is all I could have hoped for the future. Well, that and Snickerdoodles on Fridays, of course!

To begin, your husband reported that he heard a strange peeping from the kitchen one day last week. Thinking it to be your cat Vladimir, he went to investigate, and discovered that the cats had cornered a young swallow in the window. Although they were not harming the creature, they were frightening it, and so your husband attempted to rescue the animal. It then flew away into the corner of the living room.

“Dad!” screamed your daughter, Jane. She pointed at the corner. “There’s a BIRD in the HOUSE!”

“I know!” said your husband. “Let’s take it outside!”

“How?” said Jane.

Your husband then grabbed a laundry basket and a long-handled, jingling cat toy.

“With THESE,” he said, grinning.

Twenty minutes then elapsed, with the intrepid pair trying to capture the errant fowl. Closing all the doors to limit its range, they then cornered it under the television set, but it hopped away. It then flew back into the kitchen, where Jane began to laugh and dance.

“Dad, let me get it!” she yelled. “Picka me up!”

Your husband then picked her up and gave her the cat toy. Jingling it, they scared the bird under the computer deck, where your husband was finally able to capture it. Gently, he took it into his hands, then looked at Jane.

“Let’s take it outside,” he said.

“Okay,” said Jane, smiling.

Together, they then released the bird outside, where it promptly flew away.

“Bye bye, little birdie,” said Jane.

Although I would have preferred that your husband had kept the bird inside your home, I cannot fault his decision to release it, considering the presence of bloodthirsty, murdering cats therein. I hope that you will consider selling them and getting a nice parakeet instead, or perhaps a macaw. (Cat feces contains protozoans that will drive you insane, by the way. Hemingway had cats, and you know how HE turned out.) All the same, I am pleased all around, and hope to see you at our annual Easter egg hunt and chick roundup in April. And before your toddlers ask, no, we will not be dyeing the birds blue.

Sincerely,

Robert F. Stroud
Aviary Manager (“Big Bird”)
The Lawrence School for Gifted Babies

June 24, 2013

Blaire Pickles-Walshingham-Strunck
Dean of Maintenance
The Lawrence School for Gifted Babies

Dear Mrs. C,

Firstly, let me offer my sincerest apologies for the lateness of this reply, and for the state of the Lawrence School during the recent power outage. Although we pride ourselves on off-the-grid living, occasionally Mother Nature will find herself in a dreadful tizz, and will treat our solar panels and windmills like one of our unruly charges during playtime. Luckily our valiant team was able to provide some electricity to the school by having naughty toddlers walk within an old water wheel. I assure you that it did them no harm, and did wonders for their lower-body strength.

Per the Grand Poobah, we decided to take advantage of this pre-industrial time at our school to teach the children a bit about their heritage, back to the time of Old Grizzleballs and the founding of our institution. As you are aware, after swimming across the Atlantic via mermaid, he taught his lessons to the squirrels, woodchucks, and beavers in the forest, then moved on to the native children, who saw him as some sort of wild, crazed shaman. And so, to celebrate this, we held our lessons in the backyard! Putting on paper rabbit ears and/or beaver tails, we played baseball, and rolled around in a plastic toy car on the blacktop, and picked dandelions and wild poppies. Additionally, we read and watered the plants along the side of the school, and picked up random leaves and branches that had fallen in the driveway, dropping them into a pink “princess cart” that depicted various Disney heroines.

Indeed, a grand time was had by all.

There was, however, a bit of an altercation with barking dogs and the neighbors’ incredibly loud generator. Your daughter Jane was quite curious about this, and asked about it in her precocious manner. Once your husband informed her of the noise, she nodded sagely.

“Generator is noisy,” she said. “And stinky.”

From the mouths of babes, indeed.

Please know that we are taking all necessary precautions to ensure that this does not happen again, including experimenting with other alternative power sources, such as Quinoa-fed hamsters.

Sincerely,

Blaire Pickles-Walshingham-Strunck
Dean of Maintenance
The Lawrence School for Gifted Babies