Dear Honey, this is your Mother speaking.

Actually this is your Mother not speaking – as in not speaking to you. I know this will come as a shock to you but I have not been speaking to you for over a week! I thought that you would have the courtesy to notice, but you haven’t, so I am now writing to inform you that I am no longer speaking to you. Why? Well let me explain this to you my dear Honey.

Over family life there is a veil of silence that cannot, and/or should not be broken. This veil requires all members of the family to share only touching stories, sweet and cheerful memories, and positive teachable moments from their childhood with anyone to whom you are not related. (Note: This rule also extends to your Grandmothers who at your birth both grew a judgmental bone the size of a large horn right out the top of their heads. Not to worry Honey I am almost completely sure that this will never happen to me.)

{Do the crowns hide the horns?}

This rule is called the Family Confidentiality Pact. The Pact, as I will call it, is put in place to protect the parents from being humiliated with stories of the insane lengths they have had to stoop to in order to raise you up to be the upstanding citizens that you now are. The Pact is also in place to protect you children from being yanked from our cozy little unbalanced home by Social Services when the story of …let’s see, oh yes… The Bunnies become public knowledge. The Pact cannot and/or should not be broken until the Mother and Father, both Grandmothers, any childless Aunts who never liked us, are all in fact dead.

So my dear Honey – There has been a Security Breach in La Familia. This cannot ever happen again. If this does ever happen again I will be forced to steps things up to the dreaded Tit for Tat game. (Note: Let me just say at this point that I have knowledge, Mother knowledge, from your youth, that you probably don’t want shared with the public. Eye witness accounts, pictures, and yes, even video.) Looking forward to your apology, preferably served up with a hefty helping of groveling. Oh how I love the groveling.

Love from your Mother,

Queen B.