Dealing...

Dear God:

I'm sorry for the time that I snapped off the heads of my cousin's Barbie dolls. Fine. I'm sorry for all the times I did that.

I'm sorry for laughing when people fall down the stairs...after I find out that they're okay.

I'm sorry for deliberately letting my dog slobber on that uptight lady at the dog park last year.

I'm sorry for not sharing the baby-holding time as equally as I probably should during some of the Girl's Dinners. But really, that might be your fault. Babies feel so wonderful - can I really be blamed for wanting that time to continue? Wait. Now I'm blaming you. This isn't going well.

I guess I'll get right to it.

If you'd please take away this headache (you know, the one that's been pounding in my head for the whole day and is only getting worse), I'd sure appreciate it.

Sincerely,
me