Letters of Apology

Here in our little bit of Holland, we have good days, and we have bad days.  We have happy days, and we have sad days.  We have delightful days, and days that are downright trying.  In short, we're just like everyone else.

And, just like everyone else, I think my kids are pretty darn perfect.  Except when they're not.  Believe it or not, there are times when these children of mine get themselves into hot water.

Take the other day.  We were on our way home from church.  I wasn't feeling well.  The Bionic Man was really tired.  The two children in the backseat, on the other hand, were alive and well and telling the world just how good life was with some screechy singing.  Intentionally screechy singing.  The Bionic Man asked them nicely to please stop singing like that, because it was giving him a headache.  The screeching stopped briefly, only to begin again.  I reminded them of their father's request, and of our rule about not making sounds in the car that hurt people's ears.  It wasn't long before the screeching started up again.  The Bionic Man again told the children to tone it down.  And--once again, after a brief respite--we soon heard screeching from the back seat.

I'm not going to name any names, from here on out, but here's what happened:  The parent driving the car pulled over on the side of the road.  The other parent thought, "Great idea!  Let's make the kids walk home!" and awaited the other parent's command to do so with baited breath.  Surprise!  The parent driving exited the car, said, "I'll see you at home," and started walking.  The parent left behind would have loved to join the pedestrian parent, had it not been for the fact that she'd worn a particularly high heeled shoe that day it was safer for the children not to be left alone in a running car on the side of the road.  That parent drove the children home, sternly lecturing them on the life-lengthening benefits of honoring parents, following directions the first time, and being thoughtful.  All children were dropped off at home, with strict instructions to the screechers to go upstairs to their bedrooms and write a thoughtful letter of apology.  Then the parent at the wheel retraced the route home to pick up the parent who was looking very handsome in his Sunday suit as he walked.

Letters of apology were provided forthwith upon our arrival home.  After both parents were able to get a long, uninterrupted Sunday nap, all was forgiven.

But not quite forgotten, thanks to these absolutely hilarious notes.  I must share.  Since I'm not naming any names, all I can tell you is that the screechy singers are both in elementary school.  (Probably no need for that explanation after you see their spelling.)

Letter #1:

I am saree will you for give me.  I'm saree I'm saree I'm saree I'm saree a 1000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 times!  Will you frgiv me pllees!  plleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees!  pllees pllees will you forgive me!  1 more pllees!


Letter #2:

I am sorry that I kept on singing when you and mom both told me to stop.  If I had stoped then nobody would be in trouble.  Now that I think about it my singing must have been anoying.  And because of how high pitch I was it must of gave you a headach.  Is there anything I can do to make up for it?