My youngest son Kevin, who is eight years old, was tinkering with our typewriter yesterday. (Kids, ask your parents what a typewriter is, or simply Google it.) After a while, he pulled out the paper and showed it to Mrs. Earp. The letter was a formal dinner request, typed out and addressed to Mrs. Earp and I.
The request is about as hilarious as you would imagine. (Click the photo to embiggen.)
Apparently a dinner request is more serious when addressing your parents by their first names.