Greetings from the home front. Let me begin by reminding you and all of your troops are in our thoughts and prayers. Many of us continue to set hot cocoa and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at at our tables to keep you in our hearts. Not an hour goes by that we don't think of your sacrifices on the front lines, holding the fascist forces of The Boy in the Stupid Green Hat at bay.
We've had to make sacrifices at home as well. While you and your troops have been defending the Snow Fort, we've struggled to maintain both our morale and our very livelihoods. The Snow Angel Fields are deteriorating in the face of winter winds. The Snowbank Tunnel System is collapsing on itself. Icicles are becoming long and dangerous, cracking and falling into yellow snow with nobody here to lick them into submission.
In light of these developments, it is with sadness and regret that I have to inform you the Snow Fort Defense Budget is being cut.
Do not feel that we are abandoning you, commander. We know your work at the Snow Fort is vital to our freedom, and the threat of The Boy in the Stupid Green Hat is all too real. As soon as we saw his forces building an encampment on the other side of the park, we knew it would be necessary to erect our own defenses. We will not give up our spot in the park over worldly concerns like finances or how cold our toes are getting.
Since the first Battle at That Tree That Looks Kind of Like a Letter K, however, our situation has remained stagnant. From your reports it seems that anybody who travels into No-Man's Land from either side is quickly pelted into submission with snowballs, and the current weaponry on both sides is incapable of breaching the other fort. The dispute is at a stalemate, and we must act accordingly.
From now on, snowballs may only be constructed from the snow in and around the Snow Fort itself. The trips to the Thicket of Icy Trees and the Duck Pond for iceballs are becoming too much of a strain on energy and morale. We've already had a number of casualties come home because this kind of exertion is “too cold,” “boring,” or “stupid.”
In addition, these snowballs can only be thrown if The Boy in the Stupid Green Hat sends troops into No-Man's Land. While we recognize the bravery and passion of your troops who choose to huck snowballs in the general direction of the other fort, either to incite fear or because they like the “poof” sound they make when they hit the snow, this ammunition simply cannot be spared. Projections show that it will only be a matter of time before you're forced to make snowballs from the walls of the Snow Fort itself – a dangerous proposition if I've ever heard one.
Any troops who you dispatch on special operations to the other fort by sneaking around the Bike Path or behind the Crazy Lady Walking Like Six or Seven Dogs at Once will be restricted to two snowballs apiece. If they require more weaponry, they'll have to scavenge it in enemy territory. Our strategists here at home recommend against these attacks altogether, as the memory of Private Jimmy's whitewashing at the hands of The Boy himself is all too fresh in our minds.
Finally, there are no more chocolate bars, and the Council of Moms has decided that they will not purchase any more, lest you completely ruin your appetites before dinner.
We pray for your safe return. The losses have been many and the sacrifices great, but holding onto this piece of territory is imperative. For if The Boy in the Stupid Green Hat marches on our Snow Fort, he may next march upon the Sledding Hill, and then the Playground, and then all the way into our own backyards. Take hope in the reports from our spies that The Boy is getting quite cold himself and supposedly can't feel his own nose, and that there is hot cocoa waiting for him far from the fields of battle as well.
Chin up, commander. The end is in sight. The home fires are burning strong, and I'll keep a marshmallow extra-fluffy for your return. Santa willing, soon there will be hot cocoa for all.