Dear Santa

Dear Santa,
Before we get too far, I believe in you. I have always believed in you. I believed even when Chris and Cindy told me in the fourth grade that you weren't real. Luckily I decided I couldn't completely trust the word of two friends who tried to convince me to hang upside down from the monkey bars. Whilst wearing a dress. With my days of the week underwear. Ever since I saw you in Miracle on 34th Street, I knew you were real. I think it was the Dutch that did it. 

I realise I am getting far too old to give you a lengthy list of toys in the hopes of discovering them wrapped in glittering gold  and red  sparkling paper under my tree. Gone are the days of talking baby dolls, and spider bikes with banana seats, and elaborate Barbie mansions with pools and room for a pony. I no longer covet a new Lacoste Izod shirt or a Bermuda bag with changeable covers. Legs warmers, add-a-bead necklaces, pet rocks and Chia pets are hardly at the top of my list.

I am older now, and one would assume, infinitely more mature. My grown-up list leans more towards Talbots than Toys-R-Us. I have graduated to that dreaded and inevitable adult world of weighing each item I receive against the amount of dusting required. Convenience and ease trump style and panache. My adult life "it" bag is one that holds all the required elements, and yet reduces back and neck strain. And have you ever noticed that when we age, our clothes revert back to ones suspiciously similar to what we wore as toddlers? Stretchy pants with easy waist bands and Velcro shoe straps seem to dominate my wardrobe. But, I digress. 

I have learnt in my advanced age that I simply don't need more stuff. I have stuff. Lots of stuff. I have given away households full of stuff.My sister calls trinkets and baubles and home decor items dust catchers. I think she may be on to something. I could, at this point, channel my inner Miss America and ask for world peace. But Santa, I am going to go out on a limb and guess you get a bit weary of that request. And whilst world peace is an admirable goal, I would assume you sometimes want to yell "I am Santa, not God", or something along those lines. 

I have appreciated all that you have brought me over the years, Santa. Okay, as I have to be nice and not naughty, and as I really would like for you to visit this year, I must admit that is not entirely true.  I have been baffled by a few of your choices. But because you are male, I try not to judge. After all, going to Jared was not an option when I was younger. And Tiffany's security system must make it very hard to access their treasures in the dark of night with a bunch of reindeer playing havoc with the alarm system. 

So what is it I want this year? I would like a white Christmas. It is not your fault that this has become synonymous with Christmas. I say blame Bing Crosby and Hollywood. I have no idea what a sugarplum fairy is, but I would like to see one. They intrigue me. Being that I live in England now, I would like to meet the Queen. She seems like a really nice lady. And like the girl scouts, she is always prepared. I'll bet her always present purse has a breath mint, tissue, safety pin and Leicester Cheese sandwich ready for any unforeseen minor emergency. She is like a better dressed Mary Poppins. Speaking of, I would like to meet her too. Maybe she and the Queen could share a ride and join us for Christmas pudding? 

I don't have many things on my list. I believe in quality over quantity. I would like an Aston Martin DB5. I think I could totally rock that car.  I would like a star sapphire. Maybe not as large as the Star of India, as I would not like to be ostentatious. I think I would like a bright red British phone box. I do not like talking on the phone, but I think if I had a phone box, I might enjoy it more. 

 I realise this is a tall order. Maybe Cabbage Patch Dolls and Nintendo games are easier to produce, but you are magic. And besides, you have a rather large global network available to you. You, Santa, represent the innocent child who lives in all of us.  And I believe you just might be able to pull this off.

I will leave some cookies out for you this year, as I have for 49 years. You may find they are the high fibre, low sugar versions of the ones from my childhood, but they still taste pretty good. I thought about leaving some Christmas pudding, but the only way I have found it is palatable is with a pretty large glug of brandy. I would hate to be responsible for you and Dasher et al arrested for drink driving. 

Happy Christmas,

Jenni