Familiar lines from the song, "Santa Claus is coming to town." Sorta implies that little boys and girls struggle with being nice, with being good. Good golly Wally, they are just inquisitive kids, who perhaps get into a bit of mischief trying to figure out life.
Sammy's Letter to Jesus
It was coming up to Christmas and Sammy asked his mum if he could have a new bike. So, she told him that the best idea would be to write to Santa Claus. But John, having just played a vital role in the school nativity play, said he would prefer to write to the baby Jesus. John went to his room and wrote:
"Dear Jesus, I have been a very good boy and would like to have a bike for Christmas."
But he wasn't very happy when he read it over. So he decided to try again and this time he wrote:
"Dear Jesus, I'm a good boy most of the time and would like a bike for Christmas."
He read it back and wasn't happy with that one either. He tried a third version.
"'Dear Jesus, I could be a good boy if I tried hard and especially if I had a new bike."
He read that one too, but he still wasn't satisfied. So, he decided to go out for a walk while he thought about a better approach. After a short time he passed a house with a small statue of the Virgin Mary in the front garden. He crept in, stuffed the statue under his coat, hurried home and hid it under the bed. Then he wrote this letter:
"Dear Jesus, If you want to see your mother again, you'd better send me a new bike."
My Politically Correct Annual Holiday Letter
Please accept with no obligation, implied or implicit, my best wishes for a low stress, environmentally conscious, socially responsible, gender neutral, non co-dependent, and non-addictive celebration of the winter solstice holiday, practiced in the most enjoyable traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice, or secular practices of your choice, with respect for the religious or secular practices and/or traditions of others, or their choice not to practice religious or secular practices at all.
I also wish you a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling, and medically uncomplicated recognition of the generally accepted of the new calendar year approaching, but not without all due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions to society have helped make America great, not to imply that the Untied States is the only America in the Western Hemisphere, and without regard to the sex, race, color, creed, age, physical ability, aesthetic dynamics, religious faith, choice of internet service provider, choice of computer platform, or other preferences of the wishee.
(By accepting this greeting, you are accepting these terms. This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal. It is freely transferable with no alteration to the original greeting. It implies no promise by the wisher to actually implement any of the aforementioned wishes for him/herself or others, and is void where prohibited by law and revocable at the sole discretion of the wisher. This wish is warranted to perform as expected within the usual application of good tidings for a period of one year, or until the issuance of a subsequent holiday greeting, whichever comes first, and warranty is limited to replacement of this wish only, or the issuance of a new wish at the sole discretion of the wisher.)
A Brother's Letter to Santa Claus
I am writing this letter for my brother because his arm is in a sling, and the doctor said he shouldn't move his fingers too much. He sprained his wrist yesterday when he fell off the refrigerator, and we've all been pretty busy since then. My mother says it's amazing how putting one arm in a sling can keep three people jumping.
But my brother said he won't ask for anything else if I only write this letter to you to explain what he was doing on the refrigerator. He's afraid you'll forget about how good he's been for most of this year.
And, really, he has been pretty good. He's only had a few slip-ups. Like the time he painted Jerome. He and Jerome found the paints in a box in the garage, and I guess they figured they were watercolors and they'd wash right off. My brother was as surprised as anybody when Jerome's mother called to say that she could not get the green stars off Jerome's forehead. I don't think you should blame my brother for this because it was really just an accident, and the stars wore off in a couple of days.
My brother's really pretty good most of the time. He saved Mrs. Dougherty's cat when it got too high up in the tree. My mother said that she felt like fainting when she saw him climbing way out on that branch, but even she had to admit that he was trying to do a good deed.
My mother says his heart's in the right place, and he cares about other people. Once he gave a giant jar of olives to the school cafeteria. He won the olives at a carnival by guessing that there were 870 of them in the jar. He guessed it exactly. My father told him it was an amazing thing to do, but my brother said that he couldn't eat that many olives in a hundred years and could he give them to somebody that needed them. So my father brought them to the school and bought my brother and me ice cream sodas to celebrate.
You see, he's really pretty good, so I know you'll understand when I tell you about the refrigerator.
What started it was when my mother hid the Christmas cookies. She said she had to hide them because last year we only left some burned macaroons and she had to serve store-bought cookies on Christmas. So my brother and I decided to play detective. It was only a game. Really. I mean we weren't going to eat the cookies. We were just going to find them.
My brother was playing bloodhound and sniffing the air in the kitchen when, all of a sudden, he started barking and pointing at the cabinet over the refrigerator. He stood on the highchair and climbed up on the top of the refrigerator. When he opened the cabinet, the yelping got louder, and the next thing I knew he was on the floor, covered with chocolate chips and pecan sandies.
He wasn't worried about his hand so much as he was about getting the cookies back into the saltines boxes that my mother had hidden them in. So we picked them up real fast and didn't even eat one. We put them back in the boxes and cleaned up the crumbs, and that's when my mother came in and my brother's hand started to hurt.
So, you see, it was just a detective game that he was playing, and he wasn't trying to swipe the cookies. And it was pretty smart to guess that they were in the saltines boxes because he knew my mother knew that he doesn't like saltines any more than he likes olives.
So now that you know what happened, I know you'll decide to give my brother the things that he asked for and not hold it against him that he fell off the refrigerator in the middle of a game.
I hope that you do, Santa, 'cause he's really a pretty good brother most of the time. But, if I were you, I'd hold off on giving him the blowtorch for a while.