Today was a no school day here on the plain Plains in our town. Both kinders were home. And more of the same manana. We knew the snow storm was going to be serious because the school board of our town NEVER declares snow days...much less two in a row. It's an old timey, mid-western, buck up buckaroo kind of thing. In fact, the kids don't even get a break in the mornings whilst waiting in line for school to start, in the winter. It has to be 15 degrees, or less before they will let them go inside to wait. As many of you know, I grew up in Florida and never once waited in line OUTSIDE below 45 degrees. Tougher birds in this snow prone place, for sure. But on the other side of that stick is the Summer heat. Whankers here turn on the A/C at the mere mention of anything above 75 degrees.
So it snows, we dig out, it snows, we dig out...at least until noon or so tomorrow.
All of which leads me to share this with you. At some point in our cabin fever day, my youngest daughter who is in kindergarten and learning to read/write/and do simple math things, ask me if Santa really has a naughty list. I answered that I thought so, yes. She asked, would hitting, scratching and saying shut up be naughty things? Definitely I answered.
That was the end of the conversation.
A few hours later she was sitting across the room from me and asked, how do you spell Santa. I told her. A bit later she asked, how do you spell trying? T.R.Y.I.N.G. I said. More time went by and she asked, Dad, how do you spell give? G.I.V.E.
I didn't think too much about it as I was reading and not really paying attention. I was aware though that she had gotten out her color pencils and was drawing. Later she came over and said dad, can we send this to Santa. She presented me a piece of paper on which was a message and a drawing. Here is the piece of paper (to be mailed tomorrow to the North Pole):
It is a little difficult to read her "person in learning writer words" so let me translate. Dear Santa...I trying to be good. Please! Santa (drawing of her and her sister ((prone, for some reason)) a Christmas tree and Santa himself) and then the closing statement:
GIVE ME A BREAK
God I love 'em.