Dear Crazy Bitch,
I'm not going to start off telling you how I think the notoriety you've achieved due to your behavior over the last couple of years has far out-shadowed any fame you achieved when you "sang" (air quotes) and hypnotized tweens with your fabricated hooters and pelvic gyrations. I'm not going to bring up your failed marriage to "Mr. Right." And, dear Britney, I refuse to suggest your children may be better raised by rabid mountain lions than you.
No, wait. The kid thing is important. There are things that just need to be said.
Britney, I'm concerned. Every day, I am subjected to late-night, scandalous paparazzi shots featuring you. Sans panties. Drunk. Hanging with The Devil (Paris Hilton). With all that after-hours carousing, I'm guessing your days consist of waking up at the crack of noon and watching the nanny care for your children.
Or, you simply throw some Cheerios and Starbucks in the play pen and take off. It wouldn't surprise me.
At this point, the damage is already done. Instead of interviewing for prestigious pre-schools, you may as well spend your time helping Sean decide between the Bloods and the Cryps. In fact, I'd line up his parole officer now. It will save you time when he's 12.
I've taken the liberty of providing you with an age-progressed photograph of little Sean Preston. He looks so young, doesn't he? Unfortunately, his growth was stunted by the steady diet of Red Bull and cigarettes throughout his childhood.
The teardrop tattoo by his eye? He killed a man on Rodeo drive...just to watch him die.
What you do not see in the photo are his severely atrophied legs, due to years of sitting on his ass, wasting his inheritance on video games and booze. Taking his cue from you, he'll have a few "practice marriages," resulting in three to four illegitimate children. And, Britney, expect to pay for years and years of psychotherapy due primarily to you dating all of his friends and being exposed to your pantiless poontang.
Heed my warning, Spears. If you do not stop your berserk and irresponsible behavior, there will be more than a failed career at stake.
Don't mistake my concern for your kids as concern for you. I've experienced your cat-sitting...and I'm still recovering! You can't care for little kitties; motherhood is catastrophic--at epic levels.
As for the other kid, What's-His-Name? No use even addressing that. He'll be in jail, anyway.
Get it together!