Dear Monster,
Last weekend you wanted to help Daddy in the kitchen so we can make breakfast for Eva and Babe. We were making eggs and bacon, because I know you like bacon...but I didn't know exactly how much you liked it.
So of about the 20 slices of bacon made, you left 6 slices left for everyone left at the table, and you still had another two slices.
Greedy.
Sunday was hard. We were at the mall and you brought your scooter, since you like to ride around while we shop. But, at one point you ask me for juice, to which I said no, we can get you water. So in the mall you begin to cry, tantrum, and scream, yelling that you want juice. I try to get your attention and get you to understand, and you just weren't having it. So after about five minutes of tantrums, I tell you we are leaving and there is no more scooter. While this makes it worse, I begin to walk away from you slowly.
You follow me on the scooter, SCREAMING, to the point where half the mall turns around and sees you following me, crying, screaming "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy."
I will not raise a brat, it is my job as a father who loves you to try to make you the best man that I possibly can, a better man than your father.
You follow me outside, and then you run to me, hug me, and tell me you love me. I have you understand that you are sorry, but that screaming and yelling will not get you what you want, you have to use your words. I hug you, kiss you, and remind you that Daddy loves you.
I will not have you be a brat, or grow into one.
But hearing you crying did, and does break my heart. I hope you grow to understand that.
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