An Elf's Open Letter to Santa

Dear Santa,

Waiting for Santa to fill their stockings,

For a few weeks now you’ve been making your appearances, shacked up at the mall with daytrips to schools, businesses, bars and more.  You’ve gobbled your share of cookies and slurped an unfathomable amount of cocoa.  You’ve had thousands of kids plopped on your lap, and probably been sneezed on, coughed on, cried on and maybe a few other less desirable things on you, too.  You still see the flashes when you close your eyes and by the end of the day your Ho, Ho, Ho! Is more of a croak, but you’re the star of the show, the CEO of Christmas. 

And I curse you Santa.

While you smile and wave at your adoring adorable fans, the elves, most of us taller than five feet and holding that adorable fan’s hand, do your bidding, and for Ho Ho Nothing.
 

While the story says we toil away in your Toy Shop all year for minimum wage in candy canes, in reality we have it a little better.  While the job is unpaid (and in fact costs quite a bit), it only takes about two months to complete.  But there are certainly challenges, especially with three of my four charges on the good list at any given time. 

Santa, have you considered our hours of brainstorming, making lists (and checking them twice, which by the way, I thought I was your job!), comparing each kid to make sure Santa doesn’t give one too much and another too little.  Then, more hours searching Amazon.com for good deals on items that ship free. Not to mention, Santa, there’s the risk of looking like a shoplifter when trying to sneak an item in your cart while shopping with your kids.  And then, looking a bit loopy at the register, as the item is exposed for the world to see before it’s scanned and bagged, and you’re trying to distract the kids by getting them to look elsewhere, “Hey, is that uncle Casey?”  “Look at that!” “I think your shoe is untied”, only to have the cashier hold the item up and ask if you want it bagged. Curse you as well, Target.

There’s hiding items in your house and making those areas off limits to certain people, which makes said certain people even more interested in said area.  “Don’t open that closet!”  “Why, Mom?” “I think I saw a huge spider in there… and a bat, and probably a snake or porcupine…”.  

There’s the godforsaken wrapping. It takes hours to do, and they have it littering the living room in about 3 minutes on Christmas morning. Santa, can’t you just be lazy one year?  Send out a little press release that you’re saving trees for Christmas and no gifts will be wrapped? Just a thought.

Mr. Claus, it’s a lot of work to be your elf.  But you can keep your cozy, red velvet seat, and your cookie crumb beard and peppermint breath.  Because, even though it’s tedious, and tiring, and, so dang expensive, I’ll keep up the charade for as long as I can.  While it would be nice for the elves to get credit for making it all happen, the truth would set the magic free.   The stuffed stockings in the morning would just be a tradition without the anticipation, the stories, the letter writing, and the terrified faces of toddlers asked to sit on your strange lap for the first time. 

But, if you don’t mind, Santa, I have a request.  All I want for Christmas is for my mostly good little boys and girl to keep on believing.  The oldest is 9 and I know time is running out – but a couple more years of tucking her in with sugar plums dancing in her head would be much appreciated.  A few more years of the boys waking us up to tell us Santa came would be great.  And most importantly, being able to use “Santa’s watching” to instantly stop whatever troublesome thing
they’re up to for a while longer would definitely make my day. 

Sincerely,

Angie Elf