(Please play along and sing to the tune of the 12 Days of Christmas)
On the 5th Day of Christmas my blo-og said to me
This was really ha-rd
5 days is too mu-ch
I don't have that much to sa-ay
Let's go back to 2 days
and this is my last post of the week!
It's Christmas Eve! Tonight, Santa will be feeding the reindeer, packing up the sleigh, kissing Mrs. Claus good bye and heading out for a long evening of delivering gifts to good (and sometimes not great but still deserving) boys and girls. My kids feel confidant they have done everything they can to be on the Nice List. My middle child has even informed me that she has it on good authority that the elves DO NOT in fact have the resources to make coal, so kids on the Bad List should be safe. Perhaps Santa will be going for solar panels, wind turbines or some other green technology to give to those kids this year?
For my last post of Christmas week, I have to share with you the letter my oldest daughter wrote to Santa.
You are so nice to your elvs. Do you know that? Do you? Do you? You do.
You giv presints to uthr childrn. That is so nice. Do you know that? Do you? Do you? You do.
I think you make peple happy. Do you know that? Do you? Do you? You do.
I rele like you Santa. I am not lying. I'm serius. Do you know that? Do you? Do you? You do.
My favorite thing about this letter is that she never once asks for a gift. It's as if she's buttering him up for the ask. "Dear Santa, you might recall how great I think you are from my earlier letter. Do you? Do you? You do. I forgot to mention that in addition to you just being a great guy...I would love a make-up kit and a diary." She'll make a great fund-raiser one day.
Perhaps lawyering might be in her future as the tone of her letter could come across as an interrogation of sorts. Like at any moment she's going to proclaim, "And it was you, Santa, who killed Professor Plum in the conservatory with the candlestick! Do you know that? Do you? Do you? You do!"
I cannot wait for Christmas morning. It's magical. And for just a few short years, Max* and I get to relive the magic of this time of year through the eyes of our kids. Saturday morning, we turn back into kids ourselves as we all rip open our presents, play with our new toys, reach our hand way down into our stocking a couple of times to make sure we got everything out, and just be thankful for the love and laughter of our family.
That is, assuming our tree hasn't spontaneously combusted.
*names have been changed to protect the identity of my husband who actually still believes in Santa. Don't ruin it for him!