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My neighbor sent me this -- I laughed out loud.
Dear Santa:
>
> I've been a good mom all year. I've fed, cleaned, and cuddled
> my two children on demand, visited the doctor's office more than
> my doctor, sold sixty-two cases of candy bars to raise money to
> plant a shade tree on the school playground and figured out how
> to attach nine patches onto my daughter's girl scout sash with
> staples and a glue gun.
>
> 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 anymore 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 color, 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 candy 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 behind the crisper where I can hide 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" and "Take your hands off your
> brother," 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 Playdoh Travel Pack,
> the hottest stocking stuffer this year for mothers of
> preschoolers. It comes in three fluorescent colors 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 Styrofoam container.
>
> 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 organized 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 buzzer on the dryer is ringing 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 cookies on the table, but don't eat too many or
> leave crumbs on the carpet.
>
> Yours Always
> Mom
>
> PS One more thing...you can cancel all my requests if you can
> keep my children young enough to believe in Santa.
Dear Santa:
>
> I've been a good mom all year. I've fed, cleaned, and cuddled
> my two children on demand, visited the doctor's office more than
> my doctor, sold sixty-two cases of candy bars to raise money to
> plant a shade tree on the school playground and figured out how
> to attach nine patches onto my daughter's girl scout sash with
> staples and a glue gun.
>
> 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 anymore 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 color, 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 candy 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 behind the crisper where I can hide 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" and "Take your hands off your
> brother," 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 Playdoh Travel Pack,
> the hottest stocking stuffer this year for mothers of
> preschoolers. It comes in three fluorescent colors 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 Styrofoam container.
>
> 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 organized 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 buzzer on the dryer is ringing 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 cookies on the table, but don't eat too many or
> leave crumbs on the carpet.
>
> Yours Always
> Mom
>
> PS One more thing...you can cancel all my requests if you can
> keep my children young enough to believe in Santa.
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