Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Look at this poor kid. Pitiful.
It's 2:00 pm and here she stands, barefoot, engulfed in a giant bib, eating a McD*uble sandwich, in our carport.
Who is this kid's mom anyway? Where is she? Where is the supervision??
Where's the nutritious home-cooked lunch? And where are the vegetables?! (ketchup, onions and pickles don't really qualify) Besides that, does the mommy know that those tiny hands feeding the hungry mouth are covered in germs from who-knows-where?
And where are the shoes?! Doesn't the mommy care that a sharp screw or nail may be lurking behind a trash car, preparring a pedi-assult? Or that some winged creature, such as a giant horsefly or other foul vermin, may come swooping down for a taste of the burger and scare/offend the child's delicate sensibilities?!
Pitiful, just pitiful.