We, the patrons of Chili's, would like to cordially invite you to achieve an anatomically impossible event after enjoying the presence of your children tonight as we dined. We'd blame your Satan's spawn, A and E, but, as children, they are not entirely responsible for their actions. You are. We blame you for raising them to be the incorrigible, horrendous buttheads that you've allowed them to become.
And how do we know their names, you ask yourself? Well, because we heard you repeatedly shouting the little darlings' names as you issued one empty threat after another. How did I know they were empty threats after only twenty minutes in your unpleasant company? Well sir, even your very young children realized that you were not going to follow through on your warnings because you obviously never do. Instead we, the other paying customers, were subjected to repeated shouts of:
A, get down!
E, sit up!
A, stop knocking on the glass!
E, don't choke your brother!
A, get out from under the table!
E, I told you to stop that!
A, get off your brother or you're going to have to sit over here with me!
And on and on, ad infinitum, world without end, amen, amen. And then you'd get on the phone again and continue to ignore your offspring while they terrorized the other diners.
I used the children's initials instead of their names because they are innocent bystanders in the atrocity that is your parenting technique. I realize that your wife is out of town and you're not used to being the parent on duty. But here's some friendly advice, from one parent of boys to another: Man the frick up and raise your kids right before they get to school and their teachers hate you as much as everyone in the restaurant did tonight.
P.S. I might be feeling just a tiny bit smug because both of MY boys made straight As on their report cards today. :-)