Dear Santa,
I know I haven’t always been on your good list. There was the incident on Christmas Day in 1986 when I told my mom that I didn’t like anything that I got. There was that time when I was five when my aunt Bethie was living with us that I found, unwrapped, and played with all the presents she had in her closet, forcing her to go buy new ones. There was the year I yacked up all that ham (though technically that wasn’t my fault, it did’t raise my dad’s cheer level).
And then, of course, there was my constant nagging every Christmas Eve, all day long. My sisters and I were allowed to open one present that evening, before we left for my grandparent’s party. We usually left around 5:00, which meant that all day long, from the time I woke until 4:59 PM I would whine at my mother, “Can’t I just open it noooow?”
“No, Genny.”
Five minutes later: “Now?”
“No.”
Five seconds later: “But I’m bored.”
“Genny.”
“Mooooooooooom.”
I’m paraphrasing, but you know. You’re Santa. Bing Crosby songs tell me that you were watching. You know that I was an expert at whining when I was bored. During the summer my sister April and I used to have contests to see who could wail the most pitifully. We were so bored we actually turned our misery into a competition. Which I guess counts as doing something.
Anyway, I just want to point out that I’ve made the Nice List quite a lot, too. There was that time I… had all my children. That was a nice thing. Other things besides that? I feed a dog on a regular basis. I am a courteous door opener. When I wake my wife up at 5:00 in the morning, I apologize later.
What I’m getting at, Sir, is that this year I really need you to stop my perimenopause. I don’t need a lot of presents or snow or anything like that. Just no hot flashes, mood swings, or weight gain this year. I know that’s a tall order, but I have faith that a man of your chimney-shimmying talents can grant me this wish.
What is perimenopause, you ask? The beginning of menopause. A kind of cruel reverse-puberty. It’s really cramping my style. Please make it stop.
What’s that? You can’t stop a natural process? Dude. You fly across the world in one night. Nothing is natural about that.
I think I’m just asking the wrong person.
Dear Mrs. Claus……