Dear, sweet woman,

Get that kid A DAMN LEASH. Or at least some Adderall. Seriously, next time, maybe he won’t knock your entire drink into your purse, causing you to shriek and scare the ever-loving crap out of me. Also, watching him thrash around while you clean it up is completely distracting. Especially when I’m trying to listen to my friend tell perfectly good stories about townie lesbo wedding drama. I think the lesson to be learned here is that your child is possibly tame enough for the world’s trashiest McDonalds. Or the Atlanta Zoo’s chimp exhibit. A French cafe? Not so much. Best of luck with your child rearing/ snake herding. Try a taser. 

Sincerely,

Sally B.