Dear Obnoxious Vanity Plate Possessor

Dear Obnoxious Vanity Plate Possessor:

The way I approach vanity plates, bumper stickers, or any other vehicular-based advertising, is what exactly am I supposed to do with the information you're sharing?

Deductions we can make here:

1) You have children.
2) You <3 them.

I'm no parenting expert, but, doesn't that kind of go without saying? It's not like that's an added level of import a select few people have added to the parenting process; a status symbol like a decal for a prestigious school or an aggressively aerodynamism-reducing ski rack. "Some people just have children, but I actually love them."

Am I suposed to yield to you on the road as a loving parent of children? Show you more deference as you zoom across all lanes of the freeway? "Watch out, folks! I have a ballet recital to get to!" Or allow you to take the last parking spot? "Little Jimmy needs the car to be close, so he doesn't have to carry his volcano model too far!"

But, Obnoxious Vanity Plate Possessor, something tells me this trumpeting of your feelings for your progeny has less to do with me, and more to do with you.

Maybe you're trying to prove something. Maybe you had difficulty getting pregnant, and actually conceiving inspired such a wellspring of joy that you had to march right down to the DMV and request evidence of your functioning fallopian tubes with the greater Los Angeles area. Or maybe your parents didn't actually <3 you, and you're trying to work out your complex Freudian issues as you sit in traffic. Or maybe your children don't <3 you back, and are estranged; stunted by and rebellious towards your affection which knew no boundaries, not even your car's trunk. All of these and more are possible motivating factors.
While eminently better in the long run than, say, a "Jesus Is Lord" sticker, perhaps it would be best if you kept your feelings about your kids to yourself.

Obnoxious Vanity Plate Possessor, I strongly hope you work out your issues. In the meantime, I'm going to go order a vanity plate that reads the decidedly more psychologically healthy "<3 MYSLF."

Best regards,
Dear Crabby