Dear Santa … remember the letter that used to be written each year and posted? Then the time spent waiting to see if he'd read it and the concern over whether he thought you'd been good enough? Remember the excitement? The present you'd asked so humbly for in your letter, was it the one wrapped and sitting at the base of the tree? Remember?
That's what it's like for the adults in our family. Yep, the adults.
Every year, every adult in our family writes a letter to Santa explaining how they have been good and suggesting possible gifts to be placed under the tree.
An adult Santa letter ... a humble letter ... a letter of explanation, to the bearded one in the red suit.
Every year, every adult in our family writes a letter to Santa explaining how they have been good and suggesting possible gifts to be placed under the tree.
An adult Santa letter ... a humble letter ... a letter of explanation, to the bearded one in the red suit.
And, then, through the magic of Christmas, a modest gift from their humble list of suggestions is found beautifully wrapped and sitting at the base of the tree wherever they may be on Christmas morning.
Just like when we were children.
Well, almost.
It all started twelve years ago when we cumulatively decided Christmas was out of control, expensive, stressful, and, sadly, often meant money was wasted on unwanted gifts.
We were over the game where we had to guess what each person would like, where we spent money, lots of money, on many family members, not knowing if the gifts would be just right or anywhere near right.
So, we changed the game.
And the humble adult letter to Santa was born.
In reality the letters, emails these days, come to me.
The best part of that is that I get to read every letter, every explanation about how the writer has been good during the year. Every pathetic, outrageous, incredulous explanation. My family have wild imaginations when it comes to the definition of "good".
I then distribute the letters. I try to make sure the rota changes each year. Being the Virgo that I am, I have the rota from every year since 2004 when it all began. Sad, I know.
Each adult receives one of these letters, just one, laughs loudly at the explanations of goodness.
No, sorry, they don't do that.
They are inspired and impressed by the explanations of goodness throughout the year.
They then have the responsibility of ensuring one of the modest gift suggestions in the letter arrives in time to wherever the writer will be for Christmas Day and sits waiting under the tree for the excitement to begin.
One gift. Just one. A family gift. A humble gift … because they have been "good".
Simple.
Inexpensive. (We decided on a $50 limit. Yes, our family Christmas buying costs each of us $50, total.)
Everyone opens a gift that they know they will like.
No guessing. No stress. S.I.M.P.L.E.
This year's Santa letter pro forma ... Yes, there's a pro forma … It's the Virgo thing again … reads like this.
A little more formal in tone than is our norm, but sometimes Santa deserves a little respect.
Just like when we were children.
Well, almost.
It all started twelve years ago when we cumulatively decided Christmas was out of control, expensive, stressful, and, sadly, often meant money was wasted on unwanted gifts.
We were over the game where we had to guess what each person would like, where we spent money, lots of money, on many family members, not knowing if the gifts would be just right or anywhere near right.
So, we changed the game.
And the humble adult letter to Santa was born.
The best part of that is that I get to read every letter, every explanation about how the writer has been good during the year. Every pathetic, outrageous, incredulous explanation. My family have wild imaginations when it comes to the definition of "good".
I then distribute the letters. I try to make sure the rota changes each year. Being the Virgo that I am, I have the rota from every year since 2004 when it all began. Sad, I know.
Each adult receives one of these letters, just one, laughs loudly at the explanations of goodness.
No, sorry, they don't do that.
They are inspired and impressed by the explanations of goodness throughout the year.
They then have the responsibility of ensuring one of the modest gift suggestions in the letter arrives in time to wherever the writer will be for Christmas Day and sits waiting under the tree for the excitement to begin.
One gift. Just one. A family gift. A humble gift … because they have been "good".
Simple.
Inexpensive. (We decided on a $50 limit. Yes, our family Christmas buying costs each of us $50, total.)
Everyone opens a gift that they know they will like.
No guessing. No stress. S.I.M.P.L.E.
This year's Santa letter pro forma ... Yes, there's a pro forma … It's the Virgo thing again … reads like this.
Dearest, darling Santa,
It is that time of the year when I am writing you the humblest of letters providing unequivocal proof of my exemplary behaviour this year and, hence, submitting my requests for the smallest and most modest of gifts for this Christmas.
Unequivocal proof of my exemplary behaviour this year can be evidenced by the times when I:
*
*
*
*
The smallest and most modest gifts that I would like to proffer for your consideration this year are:
*
*
*
*
This year I will be at this address for Christmas day:
.
.
.
So, if you could have Rudolf lead his team there at your earliest convenience, I would be most grateful.
Your most humble believer
.
What are your family Christmas traditions?
How long has it been since you've written to Santa?
Don't you love the Christmas lights on my almost-neighbour's house?
I hope you have the best Christmas.
I'll be back blogging in the New Year.
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