Shodan
Master Black Belt
Just thought this was cute.......
Mom's Request of 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 62 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 figerprint 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 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
Mom's Request of 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 62 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 figerprint 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 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
