Playing Hard Ball with Santa

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My Dearest Kind and Loving Santa,

I realize that it is only September, but I wanted you to receive my letter early this year so that you have time to read it before all the madness begins and more importantly BEFORE you receive any letters from my children who, thanks to good schooling along with strong survival skills that tend to develop in larger families, have become extremely persuasive in their letter writing.

It is very, very important that we are on the same page this Christmas and that no surprises that could lead to any kind of conflict of interest (mostly on my end) occur this year. Need I remind you (again) that we decided  many years ago that YOU are not in charge of  gifting pets to the Siwinski household, on account of the difficult transportation situation (that bag of yours does not provide proper ventilation) and because, well,  I ASKED you so nicely to refrain from giving my children pets.

In case you have forgotten the details of our lengthy telephone conversation, let me explain again that we have ENOUGH pets. We take pretty good care of the two dogs and the cat but we are simply not worthy of any further creatures. There are enough skeletons in our closet (I mean umm…back yard) and while none of them (yet) are human, it’s gotten a little creepy back there.  I have lost track of which gecko, gerbil, lizard, bird or duck is buried where and I am afraid to plant flowers anywhere for fear of disrupting the dead and thereby causing haunting issues. (Have you not seen the movie “Poltergeist”?)

I had thought that Steve the Hamster would have been a clue for you. I realize you did not bring him to us; the two oldest boys sneaked him into the basement and by the time I found out he was living in our house (seems he’d been here a month prior to my discovery), the poor, psychotic little thing was beyond hope. He looked like a creature from Steven King’s “Pet Cemetery” on account of fright from ‘smart cat’ who somehow figured out how to sneak him out of his cage and ‘play’ with him. The stress caused him to lose all his hair and his eyes to bug out like a creepy cartoon hamster. No matter that the boys called him a warrior, it was just wrong and even I (the baby duck whisperer) could not soothe him. I could see his desperate eyes begging me to put him out of his misery. I was actually relieved for the poor little soul when he finally kicked the bucket. So really, should not the brutal memory of Steve the Warrior Hamster have been something for you have considered before you did what you did?

I can’t help but wonder if all that jolly shit went to your head along with a little too much bourbon on that fateful Christmas Eve night, compelling you to leave our dear little eight year old David a GIFT CERTIFICATE for a turtle. While it was very clever of you, finding a loophole around the well-known Siwinski FACT that SANTA DOES NOT BRING PETS NO MATTER HOW GOOD YOU HAVE BEEN AND NO MATTER HOW GOOD OF A LETTER YOU WRITE, I need to tell you that this turtle is not only making me crazy but breaking the bank.

It seems we picked a MUTANT turtle from the pet store (too bad the story has already been written, because I could take it to a whole new level).  The damn thing won’t stop growing. I just recently bought another tank (the third one in two years) which is the size of a small Jacuzzi tub and cost almost as much.  “Shelly” appears to be a SEA TURTLE instead of a cute little yellow bellied slider that was not supposed to get very big and poops like a medium size dog, only more OFTEN.

Santa! You have a big heart and I am so very grateful for all that you do for the world. I only ask that you tone things down at our house and that you PAY NO HEED to any letters that might come your way asking for snakes, ostriches, or ANYTHING that BREATHES. The turtle gift gave them all HOPE and hope breeds anarchy, chaos and an enormous vet bill.

Please, please consider my words Santa! Otherwise, I will be forced to play hard ball and show all of my children the mysteriously missing page thirty eight from the special Time Magazine addition entitled “The 100 Most Influential People WHO NEVER LIVED” where a ‘certain someone I know’ was mentioned right between Betty Crocker (as if she could ever influence the likes of me) and (oh the irony!) Ebenezer Scrooge. Just sayin.

Love Always,

Heather

Your comments make my day, even the mean ones, it means you are reading my stuff, but don't be mean, that's rude:)

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