Dear Badass Santa

Dear Santa:
I know I've already written you on behalf of my children, but I feel compelled to write one last letter on behalf of all of my friends who are mothers; none of us really has time to write, but I'm a fast typer and my children are more susceptible to the effects of Benadryl. Thus I author this letter for all of us in this quiet moment.

We've all just about had it with the whole "Santa is watching you" thing. It's exhausting to constantly remind the kids of their need to behave well and stop smacking their sibling with the leftover tubes from the wrapping paper or slashing at each other with a broken ornament. And we're all trying to get through December without any trips to the ER, drunken incidents aside.

To bolster your power, several of us have purchased the Elf on a Shelf, carefully moving the Elf each night to put the fear of Santa in the kids. While some are motivated, others patiently explain to the adults that it's IMPOSSIBLE for the Elf to return to you each night to report on the day's meltdowns or triumphs. Then they pat our hands sympathetically and return to seeing how many turns it takes to twist off their sibling's ear.

So we, all mothers, are putting aside our usual requests for extra hours in the day, a full night's sleep, a wife, a cabana boy, a larger wine fridge. Instead we'd like to ask you to do something truly magical, truly time-saving: we want you to scare the crap out of our kids and put the fear of Santa in them once and for all.

Here's how it works:

Child A hits Child B in the head with some object. Child B picks up another object and hurls it at Child A, only to miss and break Aunt Helen's crystal cake platter. Suddenly, YOU appear. "What the hell is going on here?" you roar,  your belly shaking not so much like a bowl full of jelly but more like a sumo wrestler who's going to kick some ass. "Knock this shit off NOW or you're getting NOTHING, I mean NOTHING from me! I will be on you like white on rice FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE and make sure that no one gives you anything but coal. You feel me? I said, YOU FEEL ME?" Then with a quick finger to the side of your nose,  you disappear in a puff of smoke that leaves your big, badass size 14 bootprints on the floor.

Seriously, the need for hourly warnings or $29.95 Elf on the Shelf packages would disappear as quickly as you did. And just think of all the extra hours we'd have in each day.

Now, I know what you're thinking. This might be bad for the brand, the whole magical, merry thing. But think of how much your stock would go up with mothers around the world, driving up that "believe" meter to unheard of levels.  You'd be more than a hero, more than a god - you'd be a rock star. With groupies. Moms around the world might be waiting with cookies when you arrive, ready to do whatever it takes to make your journey better. And we'd keep the whole plan on the down low — we'd make sure our child's credibility would be called into question should they repeat the story to any adult. Though a little buzz around the playground might help make your ass-kicking visits fewer in number, so frightened would kids be by hearing the story from their BFF.

So think about it, Santa. It's a new world with new needs and brands have to move with it, and though we appreciate your new Facebook page with the insider's look at North Pole antics, it's going to take more than that to make our Christmas merry.

Uh oh, I hear the children stirring and those restraints were supposed to be removed before the kids fully awakened, so I have to sign off soon.

So let me just close by saying we hope to see you arrive and leave in a puff of smoke some day soon, leaving cowering children behind you and some eternally grateful mothers in front of you.

Love,
The mothers

Dear Santa....love, Madelena

Dear Santa:

I am writing as proxy for Madelena, who is too busy shoving crap into socks that she then ties up with Silly Bandz and leaves strategically about the house and down drains. She would very much like princess tape, Hello Kitty tape and a Fancy Nancy "ice cream thing". The most important part of that request is the tape - this is required to seal up the many important packages she makes every day from recycled paper and any object left within her reach - why, just yesterday she beautifully wrapped up a tampon with such flair...I think she might have a place in your wrapping headquarters one day. I was so delighted to find feminine protection in a four-year old's baby carriage, next to the tape measure she had taped shut and the doll with her eyes taped open, perhaps the victim of some type of interrogation earlier in the day. Oh, how she does love role play.

She would also like me to tell you just how good she's been. She has given up spitting at people until Christmas has passed, because she knows you are watching her. She has also just decided that YOU are her only friend and you're invited to her party, and that I am a bad, bad mama because moments ago I would not give her the hot glue gun to close the shoe box in which she had trapped her duck who is apparently also not invited to her party. I have to tell you, that's high praise - on any given day various members of her family and community are disowned and informed that they are not coming to her party. The party for her birthday in seven months, which she has been actively planning for the last five. I do hope you like jumpy houses.

Lastly, she asks that I tell you to bring her brother nothing at all. He is not in her favor at the moment (and not coming to her party) because he unwittingly threw her art project in the trash, not realizing the wadded up napkin with eggs in it was in fact an installation piece. After threatening to stomp on his eyeballs, she carefully removed the piece from the trash, lovingly placing it on her table and placing a flashlight - stolen from her brother - next to it to shine on it.

On a personal note, I would like to thank you for providing a fantastic threat that ensures minimal carnage during the holiday season - a hissed "Santa is watching you" evokes such fear of empty stockings that any uprising is quelled within minutes and leaves her trembling. In the future, please consider leaving her cash to pay for the therapy she will no doubt need to get through the paranoia-inducing holiday season.

I'd love to write more, but I have to rescue the cat from the stroller in which he has just been tied. He doesn't appear to be pleased, especially since he is blindfolded. Perhaps I am about to thwart yet another interrogation.

Have a fantastic holiday season, and maybe we'll see you next June at the party - unless you bring the wrong thing for Christmas. In which case, all bets are off and you should start sleeping with one eye open and remove all glue and tape from your home.

Love,
Madelena's Mama

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