I’d like to begin by thanking you for handling that “please bring me better parents for Christmas” letter my daughter sent you a few years back with so much grace and discretion. She really loved the Colorado State sweatshirt you brought her instead. Thanks for having our backs on that one.
I have been very good this year. As promised, I have managed to stop accidentally swearing in front of my kids (mostly). I have applied approximately 5000 totally unnecessary band-aids with appropriate amounts of false sympathy. I have listened attentively to wild, incomprehensible stories about how to blow things up on various lego-themed video games. I have endured endless whining as I forced my kids to do chores that would have taken me less than half the time and hassle to do myself because I’m obliged to build their characters. I was completely honest with them about why there was nothing but whoppers and dum dums left in their Halloween stashes when they got home from school the next day.
I mean, I’m pulling my weight, mommy wise.
So listen, let’s make a deal. Don’t bring my kids any of the junk they’ve asked you for. In fact, go ahead and shred those letters. We have a very small house, and they do not need more stuff.
I don’t need Santa so much this year as I need the Grinch. How many cookies do I have to put on that plate for you to just sneak through the house and fill that sack of yours with all the toys you brought these kids a few years ago? We have multiple portable Thomas the Train Engine sets, once favorites, that haven’t seen the light of day since 2009. We may as well have left the Polly Pockets you brought way back when in the plastic box, since it turns out those were just as boring as they looked like they’d be.
My kids have a million things they don’t play with anymore, but if I so much as suggest that we take them to Goodwill, they burst into tears and write you letters like the one we discussed above.
I’m pretty sure you have the resources to pull off a job like this. I don’t think they’d even notice that stuff was gone.
It would be the best Christmas present ever.
Peace and eggnog,
(P.S. If you really felt like you had to leave them something, my kids could use a few new packs of Angry Birds band-aids. And I wouldn’t be disappointed to find a good bottle of wine and a subscription to Kindle Prime with my name on it under the tree.)