Dear Moonsand,

I hate you so much it physically hurts my insides.

To think I trusted you, with your brightly colored packaging, and your promises of hours of fun and entertainment for all ages.

I hope you suffocate in your own web of lies and deceit. I hope you bury yourself alive.

Whoever is responsible for dreaming you into existence from the pit of their wildest nightmares... deserves to have the same havoc that was bestowed upon my once semi-clean and orderly-ish home showered upon their dwelling place each and every day for all eternity. A pox upon their families and all who touch them.

I think the most horrifying and unspeakable part about you is the way you've lured my innocent children into your lair and offered them a hit of your poison that only sparked a torch in their tiny souls which will burn for all eternity, never to be satisfied again.

How dare you paint me the villain? YOU are the liar. YOU are the deceitful one.

Why couldn't you have stayed on the moon where you belong?

You're despicable, detestable, disgusting... and (besides the blues and greens that will continue to dwell in the deepest fibers of my white carpet for the rest of our natural lives)...you're dead to me.

Sincerely Yours,

Beth McDermott

P.S. Should this letter compel any readers to comment... if phrases that resemble "Ha-ha," "Could have told you that," or "Doesn't every Mother already know this?" come to mind... might want to rethink before you hit the post button. Unless you want the next blog to have YOUR name in the title. ;)