Holidays Are About Forgiveness

I've actually had a few first-graders, and even some second-graders, ask me to weigh in on the virtues of Santa Claus. Some believe. Some don't.  Some seem to look at me as an easy target and just ask me.

"I believe in Santa," is my usual response. This is immediately followed with "I don't believe Santa's going to help you with that worksheet/math/writing (or whatever the students are working on) right now. Now get busy." Then I 'get them busy' with what they're supposed to be doing.

Once upon a time, Santa Claus was a sore subject with me. I actually held a grudge against the jolly old elf for a few years.

You see, my early aspirations in life could be considered by some to be unsavory. Little me was certain that when I grew up I would be a thief, an arsonist, a con, a pirate or some type of criminal, albeit an extremely successful and rich one.

The way I saw it, I needed to cover my bases and try out several career paths before determining which would be most successful for me. My sisters encouraged me to move on when they found I'd discovered the hiding spots they created for their allowances. Again.

So the next logical place to go from petty thievery was piracy. And seeing how close it was to Christmas, I thought it would be easier just to go to St. Nick than my parents for the tools of my new trade. I wrote Santa a fairly detailed letter that year. I used my considerable writing skills so as not to alarm Santa to my actual plans.

...a Frisbee, black powder, a Slinky, a deck mounting cannon, a basketball, 5 pound lead cannon balls, a disc sled, a boarding axe...

I was really looking forward to getting that cannon. I had planned to test it prior to mounting it on my father's 14-foot, fiberglass sailboat. The kaboom would be so cool.

Needless to say, there was no kaboom. The cannon never came. Santa did NOT come through for me! I harbored a grudge against him, as I said, for several years.

Somewhere along the way, I changed paths completely and dedicated myself to good. Had I received a cannon at such a young age, there would have been a high probability of me blowing myself up.

So I've written Santa, yet again, to set things right. Old grudges have been forgiven and he needn't have any fear of coming to my house. Of course, I'm sure he's forgiven me for trying to stay up Christmas Eve with my air pellet rifle trained on the fireplace...

Good Behavior Provides Christmas Inspiration

Dear Santa,

Thanksgiving is well past and we've finally worked off the turkey. We're well into December and my thoughts have begun drifting to you and what is soon to come. You know what I mean. A certain (wink wink) gift-giving occasion that is just around the corner.

With that having been said, this would be a good time to mention that I've actually been pretty good this year. In fact, if you overlook certain key moments (like the pudding shots incident and the mimosa fiasco), I've been pretty good so far this whole decade.

Now, I won't even mention the Karmann Ghia or the "Mean Scream Dream Machine." You know all about those from previous letters I've sent you. As always, just let me know if you need any details...

Regardless, this year I wanted to impress upon you my stellar behavior, as well as offer some shining examples. My only motive for sharing is to provide inspiration, not try to boost the quality or quantity of my Christmas loot. Gifts, I mean.

There were a couple of times earlier this year that one of my fuzzy, black dogs had some accidents indoors. Like the good dog owner that I am, I dutifully cleaned the mess. I was certainly NOT muttering nasty, murderous euphemisms towards my sweet, fuzzy pups!

This year has been interesting with my not-so-little son getting his drivers permit. I've learned the power of prayer as a passenger in my own car. He'll be 16 within the week. Need I say more?

I have even been a really good son and brother during the past year! I have not even pestered my family. Well, not too much, anyway, Santa. But you know, everything's relative, and I'm mostly certain that they'll back me up on this one.

My wife is still in the process of getting her Masters in education. Now Santa... I've been by her side the whole time with a fresh cup of coffee ready when necessary. You know how many pots of coffee I've made? Me neither! But a new coffee maker might not be a bad thing, St. Nick.

And as her personal writing coach? I've been pretty good in that capacity as well. I only fuss because I'm so passionate about good grammar.

If you should need to verify this information, have your elves email my wife. Her name is Wilma Betty Flintstone. Her email is gOtnOemAil@nanobot.zpt. 

Don't worry, Santa. I can provide other family names and contact info if you need any more verification. Just let me know.

Kids Question Tooth Fairies' Intelligence

The big topic of conversation amongst the six and seven year-old population last year was Santa Claus. There's been a significant swing and this years hot topic seems to be the tooth fairy.

There seems to be no question as to whether or not the tooth fairy exists. The real question my kids want to know is just how smart the tooth fairy really is.

"If I accidentally swallowed my tooth," one kid asked me, "how would the tooth fairy get it? Would I still get my tooth money?"

My exact answers to these two questions were "with great care" and "probably."

I, personally, have sent home five teeth in plastic baggies in students' pockets. I've been made to witness at least 12 loose teeth since my students live for the thrill of showing off loose teeth to anyone who wishes, or doesn't wish, to see.

One student asked me how much money I got for my teeth if I lost one. I feigned ignorance and told her that I didn't remember. Truthfully, I remember it being around $3,000. Unfortunately, that was my cost to the 'tooth fairy' who fixed it!

Another student was telling her teacher and myself about her confused, misguided tooth fairy. The student's actual words, if I remember correctly, were "confused" and "not smart with direction."

"What makes you say that," the teacher asked.

"Cause the tooth fairy left my tooth money on the bathroom counter," the student replied.

"Well... Then... How do you know that money was from the tooth fairy," the teacher asked her.

"Cause I took it," was the student's only response.

Neither the teacher nor myself asked how much money it was. I suspect the teacher was as afraid to ask as I was. If it was any more than five dollars, I suspect the tooth fairy may be repo'ing those funds.

Any questioning or argument with that student would have been a moot point. Mankind simply doesn't have anything that can rebuke the sound, solid logic of a six year-old.

My Christmas Wish List

Here we are nearing the end of our second week in December. I've had a number of people ask me what I want for Christmas. Tell me, what does anybody really want for Christmas? However, I've thought long and hard about it and have come up with a Santa list... Well, kind of. Some of the items on my list may be unattainable without some secret Santa magic, or just plain priceless. Regardless, here's a small sample of my list:

I want a diet suppressor. Not for me, but for fuzzy, black dog (fbd for short) number three! He's trying to eat the house down, Santa. For real.

I want a dog grooming box. The dog goes in and, presto, comes back out clean and groomed!

I want fbd number two to not be afraid to poop in the yard when it rains.

I want the (big) brown trout back that I nearly caught on my guided fly-fishing trip. I really wanted a picture of THAT fish.

A clue. I want a clue so everybody will stop telling me to get one.

I want the 300 pound tuna I caught back too. Out of season my hiney!! That captain should still be on your naughty list, Santa.

I want some vertebrae for my lower back. The ones there now aren't working so well, Santa.

How about a self-cleaning house. I want one of those, or the kit to install to convert my current house into
 a self-cleaner.

I want an endless supply of rawhide bones. When fbd number one doesn't have any, he gets bored and goes for the blankets on my bed.

I want more books. The million or so I have are simply not enough.

And a chainsaw. I've wanted one since I was 10 years old, Santa. You should know that. A real gas-powered chainsaw. You're my only hope, Santa, since no one in my family seems to think it's a good idea for me to own one. Go figure. I'll leave a spot open for it for you.