Dear Ms. Frizzle et al,
I implore you to immediately discontinue your infiltration of my child's brain. While I appreciate your talent for finding adventure and learning opportunities lurking around every corner, and your vehicle's ability to morph into at least four different nautical devices in just 32 pages, I can no longer spend 98% of my waking moments analyzing and role-playing your lives.
In recent weeks, I have:
**Made at least two cardboard representations of Arnold, one of which boasts a miniature school bus inside his belly;
**Assisted my child in making not one, but two cloth outfits for the plastic lizard who represents Liz in our home;
**Made a puppet of that girl with the yellow and red outfit;
**Read at least five different Magic School Bus books enough times to memorize them;
**Made a birthday card for Arnold (which my child then mysteriously left under Arnold's pillow because she was the tooth fairy...);
**Answered myriad deeply philosophical questions like "What if Ms. Frizzle was totally crazy and couldn't say any words at all?";
**Spent many, many an hour "being Ms. Frizzle."
And it is this last activity that has pushed me over the edge. By all reasonable estimates, I've spent more time being Ms. Frizzle in the last four weeks than I have being Mama. I have reached the point of being unsure at any given moment which I'm supposed to be.
As I type this, one of my children is making gifts for Arnold, while the other is running around the house naked yelling "I'm Ahnold, I'm Ahnold!"
I beg you to move your field trips elsewhere, at least for a few weeks. Please, the fate of my sanity depends heavily on your decision.