My letter from Santa!

When I was just a wee kid who looked up to people because I was too short to look at them straight in the face, I believed in Santa Claus. I wrote him a wish list every year and I mailed it to the North Pole. I asked for big-ticket items like a bike, a phonograph (I’m dating myself here), a tape recorder (I thought I wanted to be a reporter but I really just wanted to use the device to snoop on people) and such.

Every year Santa always got it wrong.  When I asked for a pink bike I got a puke orange bike with no basket, but he did include a little honker. I knew that Santa wasn’t perfect but he always came close. One year I asked for a Baby Alive, a doll  that ate, drank, pooped and peed.

Imagine my surprise when I received a letter back from Santa:

Wikimedia Commons – Patrick Lentz from Boston, USA

Dear Petit Lafemme,

You have been a good girl this year. You reduced your pouting to every other day and you only stuck out your tongue behind your mother’s back once a week. What an improvement! You always get good grades even though you never do your homework and you only hit your siblings with an open hand. So this year I thought that I could finally give you the toy of your desire.

But when I read that you wanted a Baby Alive doll I had to look back at your past transgressions toward your baby brother. If you treat your Baby Alive the way you treat your brother why I doubt the doll will make it to St. Patrick’s Day. You are not the “motherly” type Petit Lafemme for I remember the times when your baby brother’s nappies were so soiled and stinky that you put a pair of odor eaters under his tush. And do you remember when you closed the bedroom while he was crying so your mother won’t hear because you didn’t want to interrupt her from making your peanut butter and jelly sandwich? There was also the time when your baby brother dropped his bottle on the floor and instead of washing the nipple you stuck it back in his mouth full of carpet lint. And let’s not forget how you almost poked through his soft spot just because you were bored. It’s a good thing he’s hard-headed or he’d have a permanent hole on his noggin. It is for all these reasons that I cannot, in good conscience, give you a Baby Alive. 

Here’s a Barbie instead. Enjoy.

***

Dear readers, I was never very fond of Barbies. They remind me of “mini hos.” But Santa was right. I’m not the motherly type, but I’m a freakin’ awesome Aunt!!!!!! I haven’t received any gifts from Santa for a very long time … I think I’ve been on his “bad list” for decades. It doesn’t matter how much we have or how much we get … it’s all about how much food and alcohol we have. After all …  there’s nothing better than being a “full drunk” in the midst of family and friends.

P.S. Getting back to Santa’s letter… his penmanship is uncannily like my mother’s handwriting … go figure.

Happy Holidays dear readers. I luv you all!

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© 2014 Lafemmeroar