The Shannon Family Table (Literally)

Dear Concerned Neighbor/Woman walking her dog/Anyone else within earshot of my house,

I'd like to assure you that my daughter is well.  She is not undergoing various strains of Chinese torture.  She is not being mauled by wild coyotes.  No one is picking off her toenails one by one with pliers.  She is simply appalled by the abhorrent, three little piece pile of sweet potato on her plate.  She is convinced they will kill her.  I calmly discouraged the thought but she would not be deterred.  There will be no eating of those terrifying little orange things tonight.  And thus, she was whisked off to her room to think about what it means to not have dessert.  In her room filled with toys.  With the lights on.  And a chalkboard wall.  Not to be confused with Riker's Island.  Which is where she thinks she is.  And now, where the entire neighborhood thinks I exiled her to as she is shouting out of her open window:

"My Mama HATES ME!!!!! Why is it wrong to not like sweet potatoes?????? I CANT EAT THEM!!!!! I STILL WANT DESSERT!"

And my personal favorite:

"I'm just a little girl!"

There are two houses for sale on our street.  This show's for free every night at 6, folks.  Tomorrow night's spinach.  Get 'em while she's hot.