This past weekend, Satan’s Workshop was once again opened up for it’s second season. Piper made me this sign for my cloffice (closet-office) last year, and I honestly think might have to get it framed or something so I can hang it up every holiday season.
Because between all the ugly sweaters (which, thank goodness that season is coming to a close), the stashing of unwrapped Christmas gifts, and the general disarray, the room formerly known as the cloffice is completely off limits to everyone except Satan.
So yes, needless to say I’m the only one alloweed in Satan’s Workshop.
And with the hanging of the sign, comes the writing of the want letters. My kids have always written letters to Santa, but somewhere along the way we’ve always had a hard time with the follow through. Never once have we mailed a letter. I’ve always been like, oh you know, Santa knows what you want. Just be good and I’m don’t worry about it…
But this year, since I know we’re on borrowed time with Piper and her Santa beliefs (she’s a crafty question ask-er), we decided to actually mail the letters per her request.
I gotta be honest, letters to Santa scare the pants off me. Especially letters to Santa written anytime after the end of November. For instance, Nola yesterday decided to ask for a second American Girl doll, with a mommy and me matching American Girl doll outfit, and the American girl doll wheelchair. First off, American Girl makes a doll wheelchair? And secondly, yeah, none of that stuff is going to happen for her. WOMP WOMP…
Personally, I was hoping for a list that look more like this:
For Christmas I would like absolutely any new-to-me toy my mom could find at the Goodwill Outlets, or bought with credits from one of the may online deal sites she religiously shops from. I also love anything brought off a lightening Amazon deal. And I specifically love used toys off Craigslist or swag given to her at blog conference.
But yeah, no kid writes like that.
Anyway, back to mailing the letters. We headed to the biggest, baddest tree in the city.
Because at the base of that tree, there is a mailbox.
And we made sure our letters floated to the bottom of that mailbox, where I’m sure elves collect the notes every evening when nobody’s looking.
So the requests are in, and the waiting game begins. Hopefully, I have a few happy children in my midst on December 26th. And as always, I lovingly remind the kids that Santa brings a few treats, but the really good stuff comes from Mom and Dad.
Because come on, I’m not going to let some white haired dude that lives a million miles away get all the credit.
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