Dear Santa,

presents are for fun
even when you’re a grown-up
at least they should be

OK, well, I think I’m done Christmas shopping. Everyone has something under the tree, Santa has been thoroughly notified of the shiny new things he can drop down the chimney, and now it’s time for Mama to mull some things over.

I keep getting the "what do you want for Christmas" question from folks and I reply with the standard world peace, chocolate covered cherries and a good night’s sleep.

What should I ask for?

New pots and pans so that I can stop slowly killing everyone with teflon-flaking-off pans. A new quilt for the bed that isn’t covered with dog hair funk and various baby slime. Socks that are non-slip so that my pelvis can heal for real instead of almost healing and then cracking in two every time I slip on the floor. Also, I should ask for a closet organizer, a new wallet, and a once a week housecleaning service.

But I haven’t asked for any of those things. Why? Because they’re useful, practical, and boooooring.

You know what I HAVE asked for?

A telescope. A glorious telescope of obscene expense and no practical value other than allowing me and mine to view the rings of Saturn. Oh, and a moleskine notebook to aid my fragile memory. And a stupid looking winter hat.

Those last two are practical, though, right? Dammit. Now they’re off the list. I could ask for a bike, though. That would be practical and fun. But I need those non-slip socks first.

Wait.

Can Santa bring me a new pubic bone? That would be awesome (though practical. alas).

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