Kids & Santa?

Wondering how many of you out there do the whole "Santa thing" with your kids. We never have. Both Clint and I never did as kids so it never even occurred to us to do it with ours.

Are we total spoil sports telling our kids from the beginning that Santa is just pretend? One of my favorite memories of Caleb at Christmas time when he was 2 was us in Fred Meyer...he saw a big blow up Santa and said, "Mom, look! It's a huge Noah!". He didn't even know who Santa was so he logically jumped to Noah...I thought it was cute.

Here's a cute story I saw yesterday for your amusement:


Dear Santa,

I've been a good mom all year. I've fed, cleaned and
cuddled my children on demand, visited their doctor's
office more than my doctor and sold sixty-two cases
of candy bars to raise money to plant a shade tree on
the school playground. 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 anymore free time in the
next 18 years.

Here are my Christmas wishes:

I'd like a pair of legs that don't ache
(in any color, except purple, which I
already have) and arms that don't hurt
or flap in the breeze, but are strong
enough to pull my screaming child 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 preg nancy.

If you're hauling big ticket items this
year I'd like 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 doll that says, "Yes, Mommy"
to boost my parental confidence, along
with 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.

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.

Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is
calling 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 door and come in and dry off 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 Santa.