You're Making My Kid Sick!
Got a meddling mother? This woman's mom is literally making her daughter sick!
Dear Mom,
What part of "lactose intolerant" don't you understand? Lactose, meaning the stuff that's in dairy. Intolerant, meaning my daughter CAN'T EAT IT! In other words, the ice cream you were feeding Amelie at lunch is not OK! I've only told you this five gazillion times!
I know you think you know better than I do. I know you think I'm making this all up and that it's perfectly fine if she has a little "wholesome" milk product. But it's not. Why? Because it clogs her up so badly she's gone 20 days without a poop after a few bites of cheese. Because it messes with her system so badly she refused to eat and had failure to thrive for 3 years of her life until we figured it out. I know you think you're sneaky and clever, but I can tell when you've fed her contraband food because the poor thing can't poop the next day!
So please, I beg you: Stop sneaking Parmesan on her noodles. Stop smothering her pancakes in butter. And stop offering her ice cream when you think I'm not looking. Because I am.
Love,
Your Daughter
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report abuseWhat part of "lactose intolerant" don't you understand? Lactose, meaning the stuff that's in dairy. Intolerant, meaning my daughter CAN'T EAT IT! In other words, the ice cream you were feeding Amelie at lunch is not OK! I've only told you this five gazillion times!
I know you think you know better than I do. I know you think I'm making this all up and that it's perfectly fine if she has a little "wholesome" milk product. But it's not. Why? Because it clogs her up so badly she's gone 20 days without a poop after a few bites of cheese. Because it messes with her system so badly she refused to eat and had failure to thrive for 3 years of her life until we figured it out. I know you think you're sneaky and clever, but I can tell when you've fed her contraband food because the poor thing can't poop the next day!
So please, I beg you: Stop sneaking Parmesan on her noodles. Stop smothering her pancakes in butter. And stop offering her ice cream when you think I'm not looking. Because I am.
Love,
Your Daughter
Got a letter of your own you're dying to write but can't quite send? Send it to us! We'll publish it for you (totally anonymously, if you like!) and help you get that beef off your back!
Email us with the words "tuesday letters" in the subject line!
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