The front:

Aaaand the back:

(Thanks to Jada in Knoxville, Tennessee for submitting!)

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Eddy shares a house in Providence, Rhode Island with his sister. “We’re both busy with school and work,” Eddy says, “so we take turns cleaning the bathroom.” Well, sort of. “I usually put it off for weeks,” Eddy admits.

Adds Eddy: “By the way, the heart translates loosely to ‘I’ll f’ing kill you.’”

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Christine from Buffalo says her 7-year-old daughter, Mary, was curious as to whether or not the Easter Bunny pooped chocolate. Yet when this note showed up next to a pile of “droppings,” little Mary was unwilling to taste a sample to find out.

P.S. Is leaving carrots for the Easter bunny a thing, like leaving cookies for Santa? I totally didn’t know that was a thing, if it is a thing. Is it?

P.P. S. We can all agree that mall Easter bunnies are totally creepy, right?

related: The Easter bunny is a passive-aggressive little bugger

Writes Kate in Georgia: “My niece, Emily, has to be the most adorable revolutionary in existence. Last week she self-published her manifesto. There are actually six pages of demands, each printed on butterfly stationery. (We assume the butterfly symbolizes her freedom from authority.)”

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Our submitter in Washington, D.C. says that a parent recently sent this e-mail to her daughter’s preschool teacher…and cc’d it to the parents of every kid in the class. “Clearly, she thinks her kids are getting screwed out of their God-given right to show-and-tell,” our submitter marvels. “I wouldn’t want to mess with this woman come college application time!”

related: Pre-K parent public shaming

Belinda in Tennessee says her six-year-old daughter wrote this note “after I refused to let her try to glue a bouncy ball back onto the elastic of the paddle toy it had broken off of.”

Translation (for those who don’t speak six-year-old):
Mom (sigh) I really love you but why do you ruin each day of my life. I’ll be on the front porch if you want to talk with me.

Meanwhile, redditor thinkboxutah’s 7-year-old son put this together after getting grounded.

related: Just…poop.

Sara from Austin writes: “I took my 2-year-old to visit my darling (but travel-phobic) father-in-law. I’ve stayed at his house many times, but not since his girlfriend began living there. He told me to make myself at home and use anything we needed, specifically pointing to the linen closet. There was one bath towel and one washcloth hanging in the bathroom (for us to share?) so I helped myself to more.”

The next day, Sara says, “two brand-new (unwashed) towels were hanging in the bathroom and this note was taped inside the linen closet. The towels I had used the day before were all washed, folded and back in the closet behind the note. That night, we moved to my sister-in-law’s house.”

related: These towels are for decoration only!

Marcel in Montreal begins his story with the moral: “There are just some things you don’t mess with — vipers, rabid dogs, king cobras, black widows…and my mom.” His younger self, however, was far less wise. This is his tale.

For a long time, Marcel and his siblings had the irritating habit of drinking all the milk in the house late at night so that there was none left when their mother went to pour herself a bowl of cereal for breakfast the morning.

One day, Marcel and his siblings came home from school to find a batch of “the richest, most delicious brownies ever” sitting on the counter. Of course, they dug in immediately. But just as he was about to head to the fridge to pour himself a cold, tall glass of milk to wash down all that chocolate-y goodness, Marcel noticed this note from Mom hiding underneath the crumbs.

“Sacre bleu!” he cried, for sure enough, there was not a drop of milk to be found in the house. Leaving a trail of brownie crumbs behind him, he ran as fast as he could to the nearest dairy farm, where, shortly before hitting send on this submission, he was eaten by a very hungry wolf.

“Both Marcel and the brownies,” the wolf wrote, “were fucking delicious.”

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Our submitter in Vancouver, Washington says this note was slipped under her door after her daughter was sent to her room following a disagreement about doing the dishes. Adds Mom: “I like that the poop is just there — not telling me I smell like poop, or to eat poop. Just…poop.”

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