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Dear Santa: Please don’t keep me up all night

Submitted by on Wednesday, 24 December 2008 No Comment

Dear Santa,

I’m sending this via email because of course I kept procrastinating and never got the letter in the mail. I’m hoping you have your Blackberry, though please don’t check it now. NORAD tells me you’re over Afghanistan. I’d rather you concentrate on flying.

It’s not even noon here, so we have a wait ahead of us. I’m keeping my fingers crossed for a safe trip, but you need to do your part, too. Make sure you check with the FAA before entering American airspace. I’d hate for the current administration to confuse your fur-trimmed cap with a terrorist’s turban and shoot you down. You won’t have to worry  about that next year.

Oh, and you  need to know that various air regulatory agencies have been looking at cow methane as a pollutant, so I bet those emissions are monitored. Be careful what you feed the team before crossing the Atlantic. I’d hate for Rudolph’s rear to set off a biological warfare warning.

The reason I’m writing is to ask you to please, please take it easy on me this year. I don’t  have a problem with staying up until 2 a.m. – I do it regularly, in fact – but it’s a bit of a pain to land in bed in the wee hours only to have the guys wake up at the crack of dawn. A grumpy mom on Christmas day is no fun.

Last year was a train wreck, literally. Two Thomas sets — what were you thinking? I was thinking of every evil name in the book to call you as I toiled into the morning to put together tracks. I have to tell you, railroad layout is not my strong suit.  I thought assembly was the elves’ job anyway — talk about things they never tell you until you’re a parent.

The year before, it was the Elmo workbench. “Some assembly required”? Ha! Try, “a degree in engineering and hours of words I don’t say in front of the guys” required. For one simple plastic plaything. The worst part: After it was put together, it kept squawking at random. Just walking past it would trigger an outburst of “Elmo’s World.” Not fun.

And Big Guy’s first Christmas reduced me to tears as I fought a Fisher-Price exercise piano for hours. Granted, the box was right: I didn’t need  tools to put it together. But I did need fingers the size of a 2-year- old with the strength of the Incredible Hulk. See anything wrong with that combination?

I should count myself lucky. The guys’ birthdays are in the summer, so they usually get the really icky-to-assemble stuff then.

But I’m begging you: Keep the train sets and small parts to a minimum tonight. You’ll get in and out quicker, and I’ll actually get some sleep.



Copyright 2008 Debra Legg. All rights reserved.

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