YOU like kids in theory. Not so much in practice.

YOU like young teenagers even less. You hated yourself when you were one, so how can you be expected to find time for them now?

YOU don’t understand why youngsters need special clothes. Wouldn’t it be more instructive to let them fend for themselves?

YOU are terrible at keeping track of your own clothes, and are the last person to be trusted with replenishing a storeful of them.

YOU think that the ‘bratz’ part of the title is right.

YOU can just about handle your nephews. Everything — and everyONE — else is overkill.