My darling daughter,

Yesterday, when I picked you up from preschool, I mentioned that I’d gotten the car washed and you burst into tears. I didn’t know that toddlers could have FOMO (Fear of Missing Out), but from now on I will try to be more sensitive.

I don’t want you worrying that I have some sort of secret life, so let me lay it out for you. Here’s what I really do while you’re in preschool:

First of all, I drive like a MANIAC. I don’t ride gently over speed bumps and I especially don’t say out loud, “Here comes a bump!” If someone cuts me off, I curse like a sailor, and I’m not talking about “rats” or “dangit.” I’m talking top shelf, A-1, make a rapper proud cursing. I also might passive-aggressively slow down when someone is tailgating me, or tailgate someone driving too slow, depending on my mood. I would never play these games with you as my precious cargo, but when you’re at preschool, all bets are off.

And I do all this while singing loudly to the Beastie Boys without anyone imploring me to “Stop singing!”

Sometimes I’ll stop by our house just to watch violent television shows with strong sexual content while eating a cookie that I’m not going to share.

While I’m there, I take an extra long shower (hello, my old friend deep conditioner) and shave my legs while actually looking at my legs. Look Ma, no Band-Aids! Needless to say, I use the bathroom by myself, double locking the door for the pure joy of it despite the fact that no one is home.

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