A THIRD letter to ass-hat parents.

I'm not a perfect parent.

Am I raising kids who are polite and respectful and who don't get in trouble?

Yes. 

Is it because of my parenting?

It shit-sure is. 

But don't get me wrong, now that my kids are older I often forget to make them meals (and by "forget" I mean I choose not to) and have missed the 6 month dentist appointment more than once. Ditto for the well-visit at the doctor.

Relax, they're fine. 

But lately (as in constantly) I've observed some parenting styles that have made me shake my head in amazement and that have made me completely understand why much of the youth of America is going to hell in a handcart.

Remember my experience in the jacuzzi? >>HERE<<

Or my tirade at parents who berate their kids in public? >>HERE<<

Some parents are simply gigantic boneheads and just don't get it.

So I've decided to write them yet another letter. 

Third time's a charm, right? 

Dear ass-clown parents who do not parent your kids and who make me want to punch you in the throat,

Yes, I'm talking to you idiots who were letting your kids bang on the screen as the credits to "Monster's University" rolled the other day while you leaned against the wall and chuckled. Glad you found your children's vandalism hilarious. Glad the theater manager did not and stepped in to lay down some boundaries that you obviously are too much of a jack-hole to do. 

And then when your group of heathens left the theater and ran UP the down escalator and DOWN the up escalator which were both FULL OF PEOPLE, and you, again, stood aside watching and allowing it to happen even when the very important theatre security guard told them to stop, I hope the images of you talking with those children on a telephone from behind a pane of glass one day in the future was floating around your imbecile brain.

I'm also talking to you, jack-tard parents who let your kids fish in the fountains at the mall for pennies, bang repeatedly on the windows at the zoo, or who sit on the bench at the park checking your phone while your bratty kid steals my kid's shovel and pail in the sandbox. 

How about teaching your children how to behave? How to be respectful? Here's an idea, maybe if you showed them how it's done they'd get it. But I guess that's probably pretty hard to do when you're living your life like the ass-clown that you are. Don't argue with me. You are. I've seen it mirrored in your urchin children. 

Get your head out of your ass.

Because otherwise, you're not gonna see me slap your child upside his little unbrushed head. 

Signed,

A lady who cannot understand why people like you were allowed to have children...and keep them. 

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