It’s the week before Christmas, which means that children everywhere are putting the final touches on their lists for Santa. Generally, I don’t make Christmas lists, but I know what I’d ask for if I did.
It’s the week before Christmas, which means that children everywhere are putting the final touches on their lists for Santa. My own kids have edited and revised their lists so extensively over the past couple of weeks that it would make any writing teacher proud.
Generally, I don’t make Christmas lists, but I know what I’d ask for if I did.
I want a technological solution to housework. We have self-cleaning ovens and irons. Why not a self-cleaning house?
I want my Grandma back. She would have been 98 today, but she died 10 years ago, just days after I brought my newborn baby to visit her in the nursing home. She was the best and I miss her.
I want the Keurig people to invent a recyclable K-cup. That way, I can ask for a single-serve coffeemaker guilt-free, knowing that my carbon footprint won’t be approaching Sasquatch proportions because of my coffee addiction.
I want my 6-year-old to stop having night terrors. Inconsolable crying and screaming in a zombielike state has gotten old in the past four months. How about we just go back to sleeping through the night like a good little boy?
Speaking of kids, I want my boys to stay small enough to cuddle. The 7-year-old already has a hard time fitting completely on my lap; soon his little brother will outgrow it, as well. Their older sister is nearly as tall as I am. Where have my babies gone?
I want the hair color of my youth back, without having to create it every six weeks. My mom was completely gray by the time she was my age. There but for the grace of Miss Clairol go I.
I want the darned economy to improve. I want political robocalls to stop. I want my parents to live forever. I want terrorists everywhere to have a change of heart, like the Red Baron in the Snoopy song. I want my pre-teenager to stay close to me. I want my dog to stop barking at bicycles. I want my husband to finally embrace the knowledge that he doesn’t have to wrap the twistie thing around the bread bag three times, because the bread isn’t going to try to get out.
I want the good stuff of my life to stay and the bad stuff to go away.
I want peace on Earth.
I’ve done my best to be good this year, but if this list is too tall an order, I’d settle for a couple million dollars.
Failing that, how about the chance to sleep past 5:30 on Christmas morning?
And if even that is impossible, I’ll take a good, strong, hot cup of coffee, made in my plain old coffeepot.
Read Julie Fay’s blog at www.juliefaysblog.wordpress.com.