Max I love that you think BIG

Dear Max,
You shook your green polka dotted piggy bank this morning and exclaimed, “I’ve got a kazillion six monies in here!”
You’re saving up for some type of gun that you think I’m going to allow you to buy. That’s because you’re under the misimpression that I’m going to cave on policy #10 (refer to Mammas Manual - paragraph 6, line 9, caveat #8) and it reads as follows:
”At no time will mamma purchase a fully assembled gun for you, pretend or real and you can’t join the military until your 18 without my consent. You can turn any materials you can lay your hands on into a gun… you can craft one out of bird droppings and Elmer’s glue if you're so inclined, but I’m not, I repeat not, going to buy a fully assembled version for you.”
Your “Damma” as you lovingly call her, tells me this policy will lead to your joining some sort of “Humans for guns-24/7” organization the moment you turn 18, but I can live with that. Plus I’m so fickle I’ll probably be a gun-toting, venison eating member of the NRA by then anyway and then we can join forces and spew gun proverbs and use chicklets to cover up the stench of our venison breath. Ew.
Still, I get why you keep trying to get me to cave on the gun situation. One of the lobes in your brain isn’t well developed enough for you to comprehend how willful mamma is. From where do you think you, Clara and Zoë get your gumption? You know the way you say, “I want to play with my Leapster” over and over and over again until even Oola our dog is whimpering? Well, you should know I came within a hair of driving my white Jeep Wrangler clear through one of the snowiest New England winters without putting the hard top on just to win a bet. I knew that while I was driving at speeds in excess of 5 mph, due to some type of scientific phenomena I like to call magic, the snow was going to blow right past me and not accumulate on my person or my car. I just cranked up the heat, swaddled up in some great wooly yoga blankets and popped some goggles on to keep the snow out of my eyes. The only time I had a problem was at stop signs or stoplights, which actually wasn’t much of a problem, as I didn’t typically follow traffic “guidelines” in my early 20’s. That would have fallen under the category of following the RULES, but I will save my feelings about the RULES for another post. (Suffice to say your Pop-pop always said that the rules were made to keep people out of HIS way and he raised me in His likeness.) Sadly, I didn’t actually WIN anything for my achievements in the winter of 1991 except for the respect of all of my delinquent peers.
But do keep speaking and thinking in terms of “a Kazillion Six”. I love that you think big. Now come take my hand little one and let’s go rock the Northern, uh, I mean Western Hemisphere.

Love, Mamma