1. Yes, I know his nose is dripping.

2. No, Daddy didn't dress them today. Daddy dresses them every day, you old bag.

3. Also, Daddy doesn't "have his hand's full today." Daddy is managing just fine. And stop calling me "Daddy." It's creepy. Go get a Maurice Salad at Macy's and leave me alone.

4. It is great that I'm giving Mommy a break, isn't it? The break is called HER CAREER.

5. Do not touch the children, please.

6. Seriously, get that wadded up tissue you just pulled from your purse away from my son's upper lip before I cut you.

7. I understand you think my children are dirty and ill-shod. I just don't care.

8. My "poor" dog isn't going to die if he doesn't get water in the next 30 seconds; thanks for giving him what's left of your Aquafina, though. Cesar Millan should give you a medal or something.

9. I don't begrudge you for judging me, or even privately condemning my actions. What I don't understand is your apparent compulsion to approach strangers and start telling them what you think. I would never suggest you aren't entitled to your opinions, but when you, say, accuse me of being a bad parent for riding with my kids on my bike, you place me in the double bind of either politely listening (and thus tacitly approving your unwanted intervention) or rudely dismissing you (thus confirming your suspicions about my negligent character). I suppose you think you're doing it "for the children" but half the time you make my daughter cry. I may be a negligent parent, but you definitely are a mean old lady that makes children cry. So get back on your broomstick and leave us alone.

10. If I ever hear you suggest that "he just needs a good old-fashioned whoopin" again, we're going to test out your theory that violence is a solution for impudence, you and me.