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Letter to Santa…

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Dear Santa:

I’m sending a picture of the gift you left for me last year.  She’s a very nice doll.  Her name is Mary and people think she looks like me, which is a little scary because they are right.  My mother said I should never look a horse in the gift, or look a gift horse, or something like that, but I would appreciate it if you would bring me a new doll, one that bends.  Mary is as stiff as a board.  My mother would like a tea kettle, my grandmother would like more sleep.  My father would like socks and my cat would like a mouse.  I would also like to know why I have to wear such a big bow on my head.  All the girls wear them but they look…silly, don’t you agree?  None of the boys have to wear things on their heads.  I know that doesn’t have anything to with holiday gifts, I was just wondering if you could explain it to me.  No one I know seems to know the answer.  My mother is making cookies for you and there will be food for the reindeer.  I hope you have a nice flight.  Thank you, Martha.

P.S. I’m drawing a picture for you.  I can’t give it to you in person because I have to go to bed at eight.   So, I will leave it by the cookies.

Letter to Santa…

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Dear Sir Santa:

We are poor.  At least that’s what people say.  We don’t have enough food, so that’s what I want for Christmas.  Food.  Enough food for my mother, my little sister and for my dog Toby, because he’s always hungry.  My mother said that you were good.  She said that you grant wishes, if we but ask.  Well, I’m asking that there’s food for everyone.  Food enough, so that no one goes to bed hungry.  I’m asking you for warm places to live and coats and shoes for those who need them.  I’m asking for the basic needs of life to be met.  And Santa, I may be small but I am fierce.  If you fail to come through for the hungry and cold, I will come for you.  You shouldn’t make promises to children that you don’t intend to keep. Food, clothing and heat, do not seem like too much to ask for.  My name is Ruth and Say hello to Mrs. Claus for me and if you can, please bring a small ball for Toby.  Thank you.

A letter to Santa…

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Dear Santa:

My name is Harriet.  My brother wants a giraffe for Christmas but I just want clothes.  All the kids make fun of me.  They say I look like a clown.  Just a dress, or long coat, would be nice.  And a pair of regular shoes.  Please.  My parents have no fashion sense and they are ruining my life.  I’m counting on you to help me.  And my dad said he won’t cut a hole in the roof for the giraffe, so it’s probably not a good idea to bring one.  Just remember, all I want are clothes, shoes and a long coat.  I don’t care about toys, I just want to dress like a normal person.  If you have an extra kitten, that would be nice too, but only if you have one who needs a good home.  Thank you.  Please don’t misplace this letter.

Love, Harriet

The letter…

 

Dear Santa:

My name is Annie and my cat’s name is Joan.  I was told that you come down the chimney  on the evening of December 24th.  I asked my grandmother why you didn’t come through the front door and she said because you landed on the roof and drove a sleigh pulled by reindeer.  Not a normal mode of transportation by any means.  She said you leave presents for good girls and boys.  What about cats?  Why don’t they get gifts?  And who are you to judge whether kids are good or bad?  You have no idea what we’re like.  My grandmother said that the presents are based on how much money families have, so rich kids get more and better gifts.  I don’t understand why you treat children the way you do.  I think you’re prejudice and nasty and I want you to know that if you step on Joan, or hurt her in anyway, I will rip out your heart and feed it to your reindeer, who I will then release into the wild to live a normal life.  My mother told me that you have elves working year round, making toys for the children you deem worthy.  I asked if you were running sweat shops and she said she didn’t think so, but she couldn’t be sure.  She said you wear a red suit and say ho ho ho.  My mom asked if I wanted to leave cookies and milk out for you, carrots for your reindeer, but I said that I didn’t.  In fact, I’d rather you skip my house altogether.  I don’t like the thought of you breaking in, deciding whether or not I’m good and leaving gifts based on our economic status.  So, stay away from me and stay away from Joan.  And, if you want my advice, you should get a real job and be far less judgmental about children.

Annie

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