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Letter To Santa
17 Answers
Dear Santa,
Could you bring me a skinny body for 2014 and a fat bank account. Try not to get them mixed up like you did this year.
Could you bring me a skinny body for 2014 and a fat bank account. Try not to get them mixed up like you did this year.
Answers
1 to 17 of 17
arrrrrrrr, i bet you are lovely as you are x
11:26 Fri 08th Nov 2013
-- answer removed --
Dear Santa,
I’ve been a good mum all year. I’ve fed, cleaned, and cuddled my two children on demand, visited their doctor’s office more than my doctor, sold sixty-two cakes to raise money to help buy equipment for 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 after a day of chasing kids (in any colour, except purple, which I already have) and arms that don’t flap in the breeze, but are strong enough to carry a screaming toddler out of the sweet 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 a car with 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 where I can hide when I want to talk on the phone.
On the practical side, I could use a talking daughter doll that says, “Yes, Mommy” to boost my parental confidence, along with one potty-trained toddler, 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”, “Take your shoes off the couch,” and ‘Take your hands off your brother/sister,” because my voice seems to be just out of my children’s hearing range and can only be heard by the dog.
And please don’t forget the Lego travel pack, the stocking stuffer this year for mothers of preschoolers. It comes in three fluorescent colours and is guaranteed to crumble on any carpet, making the In-laws’ house seem just like mine.
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 thermos flask.
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 organised crime family; or if my toddler didn’t look so cute sneaking downstairs to eat contraband ice cream in his pajamas at midnight.
Well, Santa, the washing machine has finished 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 chimney and come in and dry off by the fire so you don’t catch cold.
Help yourself to mince pies and sherry on the table, but don’t eat too much or leave crumbs on the carpet.
Yours Always,
Mum
PS One more thing…you can cancel all my requests if you can keep my children young enough to believe in you.
I’ve been a good mum all year. I’ve fed, cleaned, and cuddled my two children on demand, visited their doctor’s office more than my doctor, sold sixty-two cakes to raise money to help buy equipment for 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 after a day of chasing kids (in any colour, except purple, which I already have) and arms that don’t flap in the breeze, but are strong enough to carry a screaming toddler out of the sweet 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 a car with 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 where I can hide when I want to talk on the phone.
On the practical side, I could use a talking daughter doll that says, “Yes, Mommy” to boost my parental confidence, along with one potty-trained toddler, 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”, “Take your shoes off the couch,” and ‘Take your hands off your brother/sister,” because my voice seems to be just out of my children’s hearing range and can only be heard by the dog.
And please don’t forget the Lego travel pack, the stocking stuffer this year for mothers of preschoolers. It comes in three fluorescent colours and is guaranteed to crumble on any carpet, making the In-laws’ house seem just like mine.
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 thermos flask.
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 organised crime family; or if my toddler didn’t look so cute sneaking downstairs to eat contraband ice cream in his pajamas at midnight.
Well, Santa, the washing machine has finished 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 chimney and come in and dry off by the fire so you don’t catch cold.
Help yourself to mince pies and sherry on the table, but don’t eat too much or leave crumbs on the carpet.
Yours Always,
Mum
PS One more thing…you can cancel all my requests if you can keep my children young enough to believe in you.
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