Dear Santa,
I've been a good mom all year. I've fed, cleaned and cuddled my children on demand, visited their doctor's office more than my doctor and sold sixty-two cases of candy bars to raise money to plant a shade tree onthe school playground. I was hoping you could spreadmy list out over several Christmases, since I had towrite this letter with my son's red crayon, on the back of a receipt in the laundry room between cycles, andwho knows when I'll find anymore free time in thenext 18 years.Here are my Christmas wishes:I'd like a pair of legs that don't ache (in any color, except purple, which Ialready have) and arms that don't hurtor flap in the breeze, but are strongenough to pull my screaming child outof the candy aisle in the grocery store.I'd al so like a waist, since I lost minesomewhere in the seventh month ofmy last pregnancy.If you're hauling big ticket items thisyear I'd like fingerprint resistant windowsand a radio that only plays adult music, a television that doesn't broadcast anyprograms containing talking animals,and a refrigerator with a secretcompartment behind the crisper whereI can hide to talk on the phone.On the practical side, I could use a talking doll that says, "Yes, Mommy"to boost my parental confidence, alongwith two kids who don't fight and threepairs of jeans that will zip all the wayup without the use of power tools. I could also use a recording of Tibetanmonks chanting "Don't eat in the livingroom" and "Take your hands off yourbrother," because my voice seems tobe just out of my children's hearing range and can only be heard by the dog.If it's too late to find any of theseproducts, I'd settle for enough timeto brush my teeth and comb my hairin the same morning, or the luxuryof eating food warmer than room temperature without it being servedin a Styrofoam container.If you don't mind, I could also usea few Christmas miracles to brightenthe holiday season. Would it be toomuch trouble to declare ketchup a vegetable? It will clear my conscienceimmensely. It would be helpful if you could coerce my children to help around the house without demandingpayment as if they were the bossesof an organized crime family. Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is calling and my son saw my feet under the laundry room door. I think he wantshis crayon back. Have a safe trip andr emember to leave your wet boots bythe door and come in and dry off so you don't catch cold.Help yourself to cookies on the tablebut don't eat too many or leavecrumbs on the carpet.
Yours Always,
MOM
...P.S. One more thing...you can cancel all my requests if you can keep my children young enough to believe in Santa.
*Santa has asked that this gets passedon to all the mommies you know.
1 comment:
I LOVE this, do you mind terribly if I include it on our blog as well?
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