Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Letter to St. Nick

Dear Santa Claus,


Every year for Christmas, I ask for world peace, or at least peace in my home. I ask for everyone to have enough to eat, or at least that my children will eat the food I put in front of them. I ask for shelter from the cold and rain, or at least that I might appreciate the cold and rain if I have to be outside in them. I ask for patience without going through the trials that produce patience. I ask for a sense of well-being, or at least a false sense of well-being. I ask to be 4 inches taller.

Every year, you fail miserably.

So, this year, I say, “Screw it. Let me win the lottery.”

If I win the lottery, I promise not to spend a dime promoting any of the good values I’ve tried to foster in my children. I promise, instead, to get a boob job, a second home somewhere coastal and foreign, and a nanny.

Oh, please, let me get a nanny.

With bigger boobs, a hide-away in the Mediterranean, and a nanny, I think the peace, food, patience, shelter and well-being will take care of themselves. And if not, I’ll have enough money left over to self-medicate in any way I choose.


Wishing you a very Merry Christmas,


Mama

2 comments:

halsadick said...

Since you are already asking, can you hook me up with a Maserati?

Irish Cream said...

Don't forget the maid. A cook/chef can be optional. But, definitely you need somebody who will chase after your kids with a bleach bottle and clean those little pink Kool-aide spots.