My mom said it’s time again to write you a letter and tell you all of the wonderful things that I’m hoping for. You can probably look in my file and see that in the past I have asked for things like toys, clothes and electronics. But Santa, this year I have a more meaningful gift to ask for.
You see, Santa, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen my cousins Owen, Gaby, Lydia and Taylor. At night when I’m laying in bed I try to remember what their faces look like. I close my eyes real tight and concentrate. But I always get so sad because I’m starting to forget what they look like. Oh, Santa. I just love them so much and I miss them. Every day I cry and cry and cry because I am so sad that they don’t live somewhere close, like, say, Richardson.
So when my mom said it was time to write this letter I knew exactly what I would ask for. Santa, you can give all of my toys to other little boys this year. Instead of stopping at my house, just cruise right by. Because what I want, you can’t bring in your big, red sack. Well, technically you could probably fit it in a sack but that would be tantamount to child abuse. And you’re Santa. You don’t abuse kids. Except when you put coal in stockings. That’s pretty messed up, you gotta admit.
Anyway, Santa, for Christmas I want peace, love and joy to be found at my grandparents house when my cousins Hudson, Cannon, Keaton, Bean, Taylor, Lydia, GABY, Owen, Mason, Chase and I all gather together on Christmas Eve and eat shrimp. From what I’ve heard it’s usually the biggest shindig of the year and my mom will probably let me eat candy like it’s Halloween. There will be presents, and singing and we’ll read scriptures and have tickle fights. No one will get sick and Aunt Lylla will probably do a silly skit with Taylor. And if you could go ahead and help keep the gas prices down (you can do that, right, Santa?), then no one will go broke making the trip, either. At night I’ll sleep peacefully in the large upstairs bedroom with the wood paneling that my mom claimed in September so no one better try and steal it, and never make a sound while my mom and dad spend quality time with all of the other grown-ups. They said something about playing hearts and eating Turkey Hill Tin Roof Ice Cream, which, some say, is better than Dairy Queen!
So, Santa, in closing may I just say that you’re looking rather well this year. Is that a new suit? That Mrs. Claus sure knows how to sew. And your cheeks are especially rosy, too. You don’t look a day over 196!
p.s. I promise that you if grant me this one, very small, inconsequential and easy-to-grant wish I will be your best friend forever.
p.p.s. I swear I did NOT push Sophie down and lock her in her room. That was TOTALLY Miles.