To my son who almost burned down our house

Dear son:

You are my first born, my first baby, the one who gave me so many firsts, but please never microwave pizza rolls for four minutes again. Especially for breakfast. Especially when the last thing your parents want is to be treated to the burnt plastic pungency that comes when these salted nuggets of fiery sauce and cheese become burning lava coals hand forged by the devil.


Thank you for telling daddy what happened when smoke started coming billowing out like this was a Pantera concert and all you needed for this metal show was a few more lights and tattooed dudes with long hair whipping back and forth. Thank you for apologizing to me on the phone when daddy called to let me know what happened. If you want to shoot an apology straight to my heart, please always say: “I’m really soweeee!”

We’ve had this discussion about breakfast foods. I don’t consider pizza rolls to be one of them, but I don’t blame you. Pizza rolls are delicious at times outside the breakfast window. But you have your whole life, kid, to make poor decisions. My hope for you is that you’ll be in college, figuring out how food works that doesn’t need to be pulled out of the microwave halfway and stirred. You will buy sour candy and wash it down with a red bull. There will be peanut butter slathered on whatever will pass for bread: tortillas, your library card. You will enter food challenges like eating 32 ounces of frozen yogurt in five minutes because there’s a t-shirt and Polaroid tacked on the wall if you make it out alive, plus hearing your bros chant: “FRO! YO! BRO!”

I get this. It’s fun. I wish I could eat that way but somehow after giving birth to you and your brother, my metabolism is slower than you when I ask you to walk your brother up the stairs so he can go potty.

I love you and I want you to make better choices. So ask me next time what to do so I don’t have to walk into a kitchen that smells like I’ve nosed my way through a casino lounge ashtray.

And just so you know, a plate like that shouldn’t take more than a minute and a half, two minutes tops. If you have any questions, you can find me napping on the couch.

Love always,
Your mom

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  1. Oh my god, that photo! You should frame this letter, and present it to him on graduation day, when he’s ready to head off to Harvard.

    My worst microwave brain-freeze: My 16-year-old self put a Hot Ham & Cheese from Hardee’s in the microwave – still wrapped in the foil wrapper. That thing burst into flames in about 3 seconds.
    Pickles & Dimes recently posted..Oakland

  2. Oh goodness…hahaha. I’m so looking forward to having kids now that I see this šŸ˜‰
    Did you even bother keeping the plate? At least you weren’t home to witness the tragedy and smell the smoke first hand. Also, I hope if he does feel the need to wash sour candy down with red bull that he never tells you. I’d probably beat my child senseless if they ever do that so at least spare me the details.
    Erin recently posted..Never Buy Beer Again

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