Dear Lord,

Dear Lord,
Thank you for having the construction workers across the street look up and race over to convince my son that it isn't safe to scale the wall (using nothing but his own strength), open the window (that he shouldn't be able to reach), stand on the windowsill, and lean against the screen of the second story of your home overlooking a porch when you are supposed to be in quiet time - or ever, really.
Love,
I'm a good mom, I promise...

Dear Aaron,
If you do this again, I will end you.
Love,
I'm a good mom, at least until you do stupid stuff like that...

Dear Lord (again),
I have secured the window but ... how on earth is he supposed to survive to adulthood?
Love,
I'm a good mom, I promise...