Dear =
Santa,
I’ve been a =
good mom all year. I’ve fed, cleaned, and cuddled my children on demand, =
visited the doctor’s office more than my doctor and sold sixty-two cases =
of candy bars to raise money to plant a shade tree on the school =
playground. I was hoping you could spread my list out over several =
Christmases, since I had to write this letter with my son’s red crayon, =
on the back of a receipt in the laundry room between cycles, and who =
knows when I’ll find any more free time in the next 18 =
years.
Here are my =
Christmas wishes:
I’d like a =
pair of legs that don’t ache (in any color, except purple, which I =
already have) and arms that don’t hurt or flap in the breeze yet are =
strong enough to pull my screaming child out of the candy aisle in the =
grocery store.
I’d also like =
a waist since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh month of my last =
pregnancy.
If you’re =
hauling big ticket items this year, I’d like fingerprint resistant =
windows and a radio that only plays adult music, a television that =
doesn’t broadcast any programs containing talking animals, and a =
refrigerator with a secret compartment behind the crisper where I 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, along with two kids who =
don’t fight and three pairs of jeans that will zip all the way up =
without the use of power tools.
I could also =
use a recording of Tibetan monks chanting "Don’t eat in the living =
room" and "Take your hands off your brother," because my =
voice seems to be 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 these products, I’d settle for enough time to brush =
my teeth and comb my hair in the same morning, or the luxury of eating =
food warmer than room temperature without it being served in a Styrofoam =
container.
If you don’t =
mind, I could also use a few Christmas miracles to brighten the holiday =
season. Would it be too much trouble to declare ketchup a vegetable? It =
will clear my conscience immensely. It would be helpful if you could =
coerce my children to help around the house without demanding payment as =
if they were the bosses of 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 wants his crayon back. Have a safe trip =
and remember to leave your wet boots by the door and come in and dry off =
so you don’t catch cold.
Help yourself =
to cookies on the table but don’t eat too many or leave crumbs 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.
~~
Dr Bob Griffin =
[email protected] =
www.grif.net =
"Jesus =
Knows Me, This I =
Love!"