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         Dear Santa:
 I've been a good mom all year. I've fed, cleaned, and cuddled my two
 children on demand, visited the doctor's office more than my doctor,
 sold sixty-two cases of candy bars to raise money to plant a shade
 tree on the school playground and figured out how to attach nine
 patches onto my daughter's girl scout sash with staples and a glue
 gun.
 
 I was hoping you could spread my list out over several Christmases,
 since I had to write this letter with my son's red crayon, on the
 back of a receipt in the laundry room between cycles, and who knows
 when I'll find any more free time in the next 18 years.
 
 Here are my Christmas wishes:
 
 I'd like a pair of legs that don't ache after a day of chasing kids
 (in any colour, except purple, which I already have) and arms that
 don't flap in the breeze, but are strong enough to carry a screaming
 toddler out of the candy aisle in the grocery store.
 
 I'd also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh
 month of my last pregnancy. If you're hauling big ticket items this
 year I'd like a car with fingerprint resistant windows and a radio
 that only plays adult music; a television that doesn't broadcast any
 programs containing talking animals; and a refrigerator with a secret
 compartment behind the crisper where I can hide to talk on the phone.
 
 On the practical side, I could use a talking daughter doll that says,
 "Yes, Mommy" to boost my parental confidence, along with one potty-
 trained toddler, two kids who don't fight, and three pairs of jeans
 that will zip all the way up without the use of power tools.
 
 I could also use a recording of Tibetan monks chanting, "Don't eat in
 the living room" and "Take your hands off your brother," because my
 voice seems to be just out of my children's hearing range and can
 only be heard by the dog.
 
 And please don't forget the Play-Doh Travel Pack, the hottest stocking
 stuffer this year for mothers of pre-schoolers. It comes in three
 fluorescent colours and is guaranteed to crumble on any carpet making
 the in-laws' house seem just like mine.
 
 If it's too late to find any of these products, I'd settle for enough
 time to brush my teeth and comb my hair in the same morning, or the
 luxury of eating food warmer than room temperature without it being
 served in a styrofoam container.
 
 If you don't mind I could also use a few Christmas miracles to
 brighten the holiday season. Would it be too much trouble to declare
 ketchup a vegetable?  It will clear my conscience immensely.
 
 It would be helpful if you could coerce my children to help around the
 house without demanding payment as if they were the bosses of an
 organized crime family; or if my toddler didn't look so cute sneaking
 downstairs to eat contraband ice cream in his pajamas at midnight.
 
 Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is ringing and my son saw my feet
 under the laundry room door. I think he wants his crayon back. Have a
 safe trip and remember to leave your wet boots by the chimney and
 come in and dry off by the fire so you don't catch cold. Help
 yourself to cookies on the table, but don't eat too many or leave
 crumbs on the carpet.
 
 Yours Always, MOM.
 
 P.S.  One more thing...you can cancel all my requests if you can keep
 my children young enough to believe in you
 
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