Letter to Santa, via The North Pole
I am a 10-month-old baby, and I am writing to you because my mother has been sending out my Christmas list to people, and her list does not in any way represent the things I really want. I don’t really want stacking cups. Before you say anything, I know you’re ready to make the joke about babies and how all we want is the wrapping paper and the boxes. Touché, Santa. Touché. We do, of course, want those things. But I have a number of additional things I want very badly. My list is enclosed. Have a lovely holiday.
A comprehensive list of the things I want for Christmas:
1. Mom’s Laptop Cord
I want this laptop cord more than I have ever wanted anything. Please. I also want the power strip with the orange on/off button and the white label on that cord (which is not connected to the laptop). I would love these specific cords, which are located behind my mother’s desk, next to the air conditioner (whose cord I also want).
2. This Wall-Mount Entertainment Centre
I have no idea why my mother does not want me to play with this thing, as it is obviously a child’s toy. I would like one for my room.
3. House Keys
I would love a whole set of house keys—to eat, obviously. Only metal house keys will do. Please do not bring me plastic ones. I am not an idiot; I know that plastic house keys are not real keys.
4. Everybody’s Eyeglasses
I pull these off the face of every person I meet, only to have them pried from my fingers and reclaimed by their original owner. I would love to have a pair of my own. Again, these are going to be for eating.
5. The Contents of Our Waste Basket
I would love for the contents of this thing to be emptied out onto the floor—particularly items like used, wet cotton balls and discarded pieces of dental floss. If you would like to just take the contents of this trash bin and transfer them directly into my stocking, that would also be fine.
6. Handfuls of the Dog’s Fur
This stuff is the best. I keep trying to pull it off her, but she moves frequently, making collection difficult. My favourite thing to do with it is to put it in my mouth, then immediately realize that I didn’t want it in my mouth.
7. The Hole in the Hallway Floorboard
I spend hours looking at this hole and poking at it. I know I cannot “have” a hole, as a hole cannot be had. A hole is an absence. Yet this is a list of the things I want, and I want this hole the way Gandhi wanted peace. The way the dog wants to lick my face. The way my mom wants me to stop pulling off her eyeglasses.
8. The Fluff That’s All Over the Apartment
I honestly have no idea what this stuff is. All I know is that I want it in my hands, and no sooner have I grasped its sweet, delicate softness than my mother comes running over yelling something needlessly dramatic like, “STOP TOUCHING THAT—HOW OFTEN DO I HAVE TO VACUUM THE DANG HALLWAY?”
9. The Dog’s Food
Every time I get close to this, someone pulls me away from it. If they don’t want me to eat it, why is it on the floor?
10. Bobby Pins
These are my favourite! If I had a nickel for every bobby pin I found on the floor, I’d have double the number of little metal things I could put in my mouth because, go figure, I also totally love nickels.