Press "Enter" to skip to content

Son, We Get It, You Smoke Weed

This is an open letter to our teenage son,

We get it… you smoke weed. And we wanted to tell you, with all our heart that we don’t fucking care.

Growing up we told you that we would love you no matter who you turned out to be. What we meant is that we were open to you being cis or trans, straight or gay, a doctor or a plumber. What we didn’t mean was that you could be some loser who likes to brag about how high he is with a 1-10 scale on some internet forum

We are not oblivious to what weed is, you were conceived while your father and I binged on edibles for 3 days straight during a Spike TV Star Wars marathon. So when you text us every afternoon at 4:20 saying the skunk under the porch is out, we know that’s not true! By the way, skunks are nocturnal you’d know that if you watched something educational like Planet Earth while stoned rather than waste your time rewatching Adventure Time over and over again.

Your worst offense so far is the marijuana leaf merchandise you purchase to wear and decorate your room. Why do you have a modified Canadian flag that’s green and replaces the maple leaf with a marijuana leaf when you’re too unmotivated to leave the United States or even get a valid passport? What’s the point in the shirt that says “legalize it” every day when we live in Colorado?

We were always told that parenting will be a thankless job and that the real reward will come later. Honestly we don’t see it and are hoping you emancipate from us or get into some real drugs. Be more interesting, like your cousin Eric. He’s addicted to heroin!

Mom and Dad