My Letter to Santa

Dear Santa,

This year I want to enjoy the holidays. No more fretting about gifts, sizes, food, lines, credit, or impressions. Here is how YOU can help me do it:

For every battery operated toy you put under our tree, please include long-lasting batteries if it is a fun/educational toy. If it sucks, put used batteries in that will last just long enough for the recipient to figure out that it sucks but not long enough to give me a headache. Better yet, leave all the toys requiring batteries at someone else's house. I want silence so I can slowly and peacefully sip my eggnog on Christmas morning, not gulp it down with 3 Advil like a New Year's hangover.

If you must put candy in the kids' stockings, please make it sugar-free. Ian has been on a hypoglycemic roller coaster ride these last few weeks because of all the parties and treats friends are giving him. And Ainsley thinks M&Ms are a breakfast food, so don't even go there.

Let's shoot for quality, not quantity, o.k.? This is a valuable lesson the kids need to learn now. Oh, and leave the price tags on everything. That will help. Gifts receipts would be nice, too, just in case.

For every Lego or Bionicle set you give to Ian, please include 2 sets of laminated and collated directions. One normal version for Ian, and the "Assembly Instructions for Parents Who Are Not And Never Will Be Engineers" for me. Steve, as you know, does not need instructions for anything.

Do not bring Ainsley any Barbie dolls. She hates them. I don't know why, but I am grateful there are no teeny-tiny floozy pumps scattered throughout my house. She'll learn to hate her body soon enough without Barbie's help.

Please wrap your presents in a different kind of paper than I use. Ian is smart enough to figure out our secret if he keeps seeing your presents in the same red stuff with gold stars that has appeared the last 3 years on both of our gifts. I can't hide that roll forever! Work with me here!

Well, that should about do it. Send me an email if you have any specific questions.

Oh, don't take it personally that my kids don't want to come see you at the mall. They saw "A Christmas Story", and quite frankly, they are terrified you'll push them down the slide with your foot like you did to Ralphie. Somebody must have forgotten to take his Prozac that day, hmmmmmm?

Love and hugs,
Ian and Ainsley's Mom


P. S. Could you ask the reindeer not to poop on our front lawn? Man, that stuff took forever to clean up last year. Can't they hold it till you get to New Jersey or someplace where no one will notice the smell? What on earth do you feed them, anyway?