I'm the place chain letters come to die. I'd forgotten about these gems until a friend recently asked if she could send one to our boys. I acquiesced because, dang it, I'm an adult. In the past, I've had the best of intentions with recipe chain letters, socks chain letters, and every variety that came through the mail in the nineties. I have had approximately zero success at following through on these intentions. Surely, I've matured in this area of sending mail.
Nope.
No, I have not.
The guilt and the shame are familiar. Every time I look in the direction of the "to deal with" pile and see the neatly folded papers waiting to be addressed, I shudder. I need to deal with you. There are kids depending on me, darn it! I can't. I just can't. I will. Maybe.
Here's the thing, I'm happy to send the package of stickers or whatever to the first person on the list. It's the passing it on that kills me. My dilemma is that I either have to pass it on to someone I have a really good relationship with and who will love me anyway, or I have to send them to people I know, but don't really care what they think of me.
You guys in between are safe.
I'm not sure I know four families who fit either of those criteria. So if you want a chain letter that guarantees your kid will be sent stickers from sixteen different people, just send your address my way.
Otherwise, I'm sending one letter to each of my sister's four kids. She has to love me. It's Biblical.
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