"Dear Santa," joke

Dear Santa,
I’ve been a good mom all year. I’ve fed, cleaned, and cuddled my
two children on demand, visited their doctor’s office more than my
doctor, sold sixty-two cases of candy bars to raise money to plant
a shade tree on the school playground, and figured out how to
attach nine patches onto my daughter’s girl scout sash with
staples and a glue gun.
I was hoping you could spread my list out over several Christmases,
since I had to write this letter with my son’s red crayon, on the
back of a receipt in the laundry room between cycles, and who
knows when I’ll find anymore free time in the next 18 years.
Here are my Christmas wishes: I’d like a pair of legs that don’t
ache after a day of chasing kids (in any color, except purple,
which I already have) and arms that don’t flap in the breeze, but
are strong enough to carry a screaming toddler out of the candy
aisle in the grocery store. I’d also like a waist, since I lost
mine somewhere in the seventh month of my last pregnancy.
If you’re hauling big ticket items this year I’d like a car with
fingerprint resistant windows and a radio that only plays adult
music; a television that doesn’t broadcast any programs containing
talking animals; and a refrigerator with a secret compartment
behind the crisper where I can hide when I want to talk on the
phone.
On the practical side, I could use a talking daughter doll that
says, “Yes, Mommy” to boost my parental confidence, along with one
potty-trained toddler, two kids who don’t fight, and three pairs of
jeans that will zip all the way up without the use of power tools.
I could also use a recording of Tibetan monks chanting, “Don’t eat
in the living room”, “Take your shoes off the couch, ” and ‘Take
your hands off your brother/sister, ” because my voice seems to be
just out of my children’s hearing range and can only be heard by
the dog.
And please don’t forget the Playdoh Travel Pack, the stocking
stuffer this year for mothers of preschoolers. It comes in three
fluorescent colors and is guaranteed to crumble on any carpet
making the In-laws’ house seem just like mine.
If it’s too late to find any of these products, I’d settle for
enough time to brush my teeth and comb my hair in the same
morning, or the luxury of eating food warmer than room temperature
without it being served in a Styrofoam container.
If you don’t mind I could also use a few Christmas miracles to
brighten the holiday season. Would it be too much trouble to
declare ketchup a vegetable? It will clear my conscience
immensely. It would be helpful if you could coerce my children to
help around the house without demanding payment as if they were
the bosses of an organized crime family; or if my toddler didn’t
look so cute sneaking downstairs to eat contraband ice cream in
his pajamas at midnight.
Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is ringing and my son saw my
feet under the laundry room door. I think he wants his crayon back.
Have a safe trip and remember to leave your wet boots by the
chimney and come in and dry off by the fire so you don’t catch
cold. Help yourself to cookies and trifle on the table, but don’t eat too
much or leave crumbs on the carpet.
Yours Always,
Mom
PS One more thing…you can cancel all my requests if you can keep
my children young enough to believe in you.