Dear Chick Who Tries To Talk To Me At Gymnastics,

Even though I would have rather been listening to music, knitting and watching my kid, the first week of class this session, I gave you a chance. I didn't break out my iPod and left my needles in my bag. Instead, I tried to be friendly and sat there and talked with you for an hour about the nightmares of potty training even though this is a conversation I try to avoid having--I've had it way too many times and frankly, it bores me to tears. But the real kicker was when you started telling me what a "bad child" your youngest daughter is...while she was right next to you. No wonder she's so disobedient. She's being told she is, so of course she's going to continue that pattern of behavior. It also made me extremely uncomfortable when you spanked her in front of me. It was a mild swat, but a swat nonetheless and I just don't care to witness it, especially when she received the overly-severe punishment for something so trivial as untying your shoes while you weren't looking. I guess you were too engrossed in your monologue about how awful she acts and why can't she just poop in the toilet for you? And maybe, just maybe, I'm going to venture to say that you're not really reading that parenting book you're toting around with you. I'm starting to think it's just a prop, like that chick I'd see around campus my freshman year of college who used to carry around a skate board with her but never actually rode it. The thing's wheels were pristine. Anyway, I wonder if that "book" of yours says anything in there about going a full 5 seconds without hollaring "Don't do that or I'll (enter empty threat here)!" I'm not claiming to be a perfect parent but it was all too much. So this week, as I sat next to you with my ear buds in, my music blasting and with knitting needles clicking, I realize I came off rude. But I'm not going to apologize for it. You make me uncomfortable and talking to you about boring stuff and watching your poor parenting skills is not how I want to spend that hour. And I'm not even going to be mad at you for making me turn up my volume full blast and ruining what's left of my abused ear drums just so I wouldn't have to hear you tell your poor daughter what a bad girl she is for an entire hour.

Good luck to you and may I suggest perhaps a different parenting book,
Annie Reynolds