I have been a good girl this year. At least I think I was. Mommy didn't get two angry with me this year. At least I think I was good.
Mommy was not good. At least that's what daddy says. He keeps calling her a naughty little girl. The only thing I don't understand why he says it 'cause she's been real nice to me.
Since I've been real extra good I hope I can use a little extra credit for mommy too. So here's the list Santa:
For Mommy: Please give mommy a half-caf, non-dairy, mocachino latte' with a dash of cocoa maker so some guy named Starbuck can stop
For Daddy: Can daddy get all of the stupid drivers here in SEATTLE (see comments for explanation for change from Los Angeles) to get off the road and learn what a blinker is.
For me (My name is Britania): I want: A barbie playhouse, some of those bratz (with a Z not an S like mommy keeps saying.), some make-up (so I can look more growed up.), and a puppy. I really want a puppy but mommy says there's no way she's letting a flea bag into this house to throw hair all over her new couch. Maybe if you can send one that don't have fleas and don't throw hair around mommy will say okay. Please don't send a goldfish like daddy says I should ask for. I think fish are boring.
Los Angeles, CA
P.S. My older sister, Andromeda, wants peas on earth but I think they are yucky, so don't get her anything. Besides, I saw her kissing a boy and she said if I told mom and dad she would beat me up 'cause I'm just a little brat (without a z).
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Thank you for Christmas. I like Christmas a lot. My bible school told me that you made Christmas because you died for our sins. It's supposed to be so if I make a mistake sometimes its okay, just I'm not supposed to make a lot of them. The day is supposed to be something about the day you died on the cross like we see in church behind Pastor Tony, but daddy says you died on a different day. He said we celebrate you on Saint Krispies day.
Mommy says that Santa (the funny looking guy at the mall that smells bad) goes to everybody's house and gives them presents if they were good on Christmas. I know it was daddy because I saw him last year eating the cookies I left. This year I just gave daddy my list and called him Santa.
I wanted to watch that movie that Mel Gibson made about what you did to make Christmas but mommy said that it would give me bad dreams. I heard on the news daddy watches that there was a lot of Auntie Cementism in the movie but I didn't think it was true. Auntie Sarah, from Bible school, told me all about Christmas and she never said anything about an Auntie named Cementism. Did you have an auntie named Cementism? I think that's a silly name.
My older sister Ella (It's short of Elizabeth) told me I'm supposed to be saying thank-you for stuff so here is my list:
Daddy want's to thank you for making the Red Sox win the world series. He said "Thank-You Jesus!" a bunch of times when they won and I'm sure you heard him. He was pretty loud. He said something about you breaking a big baby curse too. (Daddy said Bambino but mommy said it means big baby. She's so smart.) I know you won the game too because I saw you playing. You were the center-fielder. And I bet you thought no one was looking but I saw you!
After the game was over, daddy fell asleep on the couch and I couldn't wake him up. Mommy said it was because he had too much of the holy spirits.
Okay, more thank-yous:
Thank-you for mommy.
Thank-you for daddy.
Thank-you for my really cool sister Ella.
Thank-you for the new puppy (I know daddy got it and mom is really mad but I know you helped him do it because I prayed.)
Thank-you for all the really neat toys I'm going to get this year.
Most of all thank you for saving me.
Merry Christmas Jesus!