Yep, I’m calling you out. I know it’s all the rage to be proud of being a “bad mom” like in the popular movie with lots of drinking and swearing and fast food shoveling, but I’m not talking about those moms. I’m talking about actual bad moms. Moms who would target a four-year-old child out of hatred for his grandfather who happens to be the president of the United States. You broads have got to get ahold of yourselves. I have to believe that this is some sort of psychotic break because under normal circumstances you mothers would never say the following about a four-year-old child like these Upper East Side moms did, would you?

“They will be in the same classroom and I don’t think I can deal with this. Birthday parties, etc.,” and “You want to spend nine years worried that DS [darling son] is getting infected with Trumpism?”

Because if you would say this about a child, you are the spawn of Hell. There’s no other explanation for the kind of evil that it takes to say these things about a four-year-old. Since the inauguration of President Trump, the attacks on his family have been beyond vile, especially those on Barron, who is ten. But it seems that y’all want to go even lower, so now a four-year-old is the target. Have you no decency? Is anyone safe? Is there anyone you won’t vomit your bile onto? Is the family dog safe? Or should that rabid mutt be put down to save the world from spreading the fleas that may have been infected with Trump’s icky blood?

Do you know how sick you are? Because here’s the truth: that kind of behavior deserves getting your mouth washed out with soap. For God’s sake, these are babies you are disparaging! Babies! What the hell is wrong with you? Were you raised by wolves? Does your mother know you do this? Moms are supposed to have at least one thing in common; caring for children. If you see someone’s baby fall down in front of you, do you reach out and help him or do you find out if the kid’s parents voted the right way first?

I’ll never forget the feeling I had taking my firstborn to her first day of preschool. Will she be liked? Will she find any friends? Will they be mean to her? Will she get invited to birthday parties? As the victim of schoolyard abuse, my fears were deep. Watching my helpless, sweet 3-year-old go off into a building full of strangers was hell for me and I sobbed all the way home. Did you have those fears about your own child’s first day of school? How would you have felt if you found out that parents of the kids you were hoping would befriend yours were calling your child “infectious” like a disease? How would you feel if you knew they were plotting to exclude your child? You nasty women who would do this are monstrous. You have lost your humanity. And if I ever run across one of your children, it’s a certainty that I will treat them with kindness and love. Because that’s what mothers are supposed to do, you soulless harridans. Is that harsh? It’s a good thing I’m talking about grown adults and not somebody’s four-year-old, isn’t it?

You know those protesters running around shouting “SHAME! SHAME! SHAME!” everywhere for no reason? In a just world, they’d be gathered outside your fancy Upper East Side doorstep every morning until you begged for forgiveness for being such black-hearted hags.

Shame on you!