Friday, December 21, 2012

Proxy Letter to Santa

Baby writing to Santa.
I hope he is fluent in Scribble.

Dear Santa,

This morning I sat my daughter down to write a letter to you. But when I asked her what she wanted to ask you for, all she said was “a present”. Then I tried to explain, a laughable attempt in the face of two-year old distraction, and when I asked again, she said she wanted one present. I asked her what that one present should be, and she changed it to three presents. While I may be an English major, I'm no fool: I know an increasing numerical pattern when I see one, and in order to avoid the next request being six presents, I just figured I'll take over the letter writing for this year and she can try again when she's a little older and not quite so hyper-focused on counting everything.

So... how are you, Santa? How have things been up at the North Pole? I hope all the reindeer are well and Mrs. Claus and the elves are in good spirits. Goodness... this is awkward. I'm sorry, it's just been so long since I wrote you a letter myself. What has it been... fifteen, sixteen years? I know I was only barely on the cusp of preteen-hood when I “figured out” that Santa wasn't real. And it took me until about three Christmases ago to learn what most parents eventually learn around the time their first child is born: that they were mistaken and you are very real and it is my highest Christmas calling to make sure my daughter knows it well. (Though I would appreciate it if all your gifts didn't magically have a way of emptying my bank account, but I guess you can't mess with a good system.)

Anyway, I guess, being how you know when we've been naughty or nice, that you probably have some sort of surveillance capabilities and have been keeping up pretty well with what's happened with me in the meantime, so I won't bore you with details. Suffice to say, I grew up, moved to Maryland, got married, had a kid, etc. Fast forward to present.

Oh, speaking of presents, let me get back on track here. Honestly, I really don't know what to tell you as far as what my daughter might want. Thanks to her grandmother, she has plenty of warm clothes for winter, and she just got a bunch of toys for her birthday in October. Her dad is supposed to be making her a doll-bed, and I was hoping to make a little pillow and blanket to go with it (I know-- four days to go; I am the Queen of Procrastination). But she has been getting very into pretending lately, and as I already mentioned, she LOVES counting right now, so anything that appeals to those would probably be perfect. I'll leave that up to you, Santa, since you're the expert. How many centuries have you been doing this now?

As for me, well, the only thing I really want is a house. Preferably one that cleans itself, and has room for a garden. And has some space between neighbors, since sharing a wall with a series of smoking residents has really taught me to cherish my own space. It would also be nice if the house had teleporter pads or portals so I could easily step out a special door and walk over to visit a friend in Boise or my parents in California. Oh, and while we're at it, could it also have a special shield around it to block out noise pollution? They've been doing construction for about 6 months next door here and it is getting old. And of course, I'd like all the usual: hi-tech security system, big modern kitchen, nice big deck to host parties and get Three Days of Barbeque up and running again (the Mayans were actually right! There was no 3 Days this year! End of the world!). Oh, and if it could also come pre-furnished, that'd be great. And make sure there's a replicator in the kitchen, so I only have to cook if I want to.

So in other words, something like this:

Okay? Awesome. Thanks! You're the best Santa!

Merry Christmas,

The Grove Family

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