But nonetheless, there seems to be this tradition in our nation that one must take their little monkeys to visit the Jolly Red One at Christmas time. And kids across the United States, are migrating to malls in droves to meet the toymaker this week.
With this in mind, I thought that it would be fitting to share a little ditty from my Christmas past (way, way, way, past). You see, when I was a wee tot, my parents took me to meet Santa. I was their first born and they must have been so excited. They dressed me up in a cute little Christmas outfit, combed my hair until it was smooth and shiny, and washed my little face. They may have even helped prepare me mentally for my meeting with Santa by rehearsing what he might say to me and what I might say to him. Everything was going great.
|Me and Old Creepy Claus|
I saw him with his suit and his extreme facial hair! And then... before I could protest, they plopped me on his lap. And then...he wrapped his creepy white gloves around me. And then...he asked me what I wanted for Christmas. And then...I just sat there staring at my parents and wondering if they had enough money to pay for my post traumatic stress counseling before I finally whispered my request to Santa, "I want some water". And then... Santa leaned in a little closer and asked me to repeat myself. "I want some water", I said a little louder. And then...Santa looked at me like I had three heads and looked at my parents, shrugged and said, "You want water for Christmas?" And then...I screamed. And my parents whisked me away to a water fountain. And to this day, whenever I get nervous I need a drink of water. The End.
I have issues,