Take your washcloth and...

So, today I get an email from the director of my son's preschool:

Yo, Urban Mommy,

Your son really likes this nasty old washcloth that one of the girls brings to school. He WANTS it when he sees it. It's purple with a yellow rose embroidered on it. I know he has a blanket for nap time, but he likes the washcloth more.

So, what? I finally remember to bring in a blanket, and now I'm supposed to drop everything and search the interwebs for a piece-of-shit washcloth with a yellow rose? Yo! I had to mix up three cocktails before I calmed down enough to respond. 

Here's the thing. I've been getting TONS of email from the preschool director because my three-year-old decided he's a grown-up and doesn't need a nap. And when he doesn't nap? He starts quoting Urban Mommy, and this, evidently disturbs the preschool director. Only the director? She blames everything on "the children", like, "the children get upset when they hear potty-mouth." But finding another preschool--that's HARD in San Francisco--so, I've been trying to act like this is a big deal, like this is my top priority, like I'm 100 percent on their side. Call me Captain of Team Idiot! And as captain, I came up with this:

Yo, Preschool Director,
I found that washcloth online, and it contains TOXIC levels of asbestos, led, uranium, and calf brains. Please inform the girl's parents. And if I seem my son with that HAZARD, I'll SUE YOUR ASS.

What do you think. Should I sign 'Sincerely'? Or 'xoxo'?

Yo!