I was at one of our local malls recently and noticed this next to Santa's chair:
I texted several people about my discovery.The first response was from my friend Ivory:
My friend Alanna had this to say:
Another friend made this point:
Just to clarify, she's talking about the medical condition "stroke". Since we were just discussing Santa's privates, it might be easy to jump to the conclusion that we're talking about a different kind of "stroking out". I think we can all agree that no one wants to see either definition in action. And I apologize if I've made you think of Santa in an inappropriate way. At least I didn't entitle this "Santa's Sweaty Taint". (I'm trying to keep things classy around here...).
My son is seven (going on eight) and he came home with this request recently:
Kids are both so heartbreakingly naive and ridiculously smart with their questions about Santa. A five-year old family member recently requested a Facetime session with Santa. I have to agree that technology has made contacting Santa so much more efficient than when I was a kid. When my son was about 3 or so, he did something bad and I threatened to email Santa. I happened to be scrubbing down the walls of the bathtub when this happened. My son was behind me and he had a meltdown yelling, "DON'T EMAIL SANTA!". I kept on wiping down the walls and didn't look at him. I couldn't let him see my face because then he would have seen that I was laughing.
I didn't plan it this way, but the mention of bathtub and the naivety of children allows me to share this story:
Just so you know, I got permission from my dental hygienist friend to share her story here. We looked up the photo online and this is the exact reusable douche. Apparently the original version was purple though.
OK, I have to stop with the humor for a second to shamelessly beg you to pray, send good vibes or just think positive thoughts about my son. He's having yet ANOTHER surgery this Tuesday, 11/24. It's the second surgery this year and sixth overall. I would tell the details of what's being done but I'm trying to respect his privacy. When he's an adult he might not appreciate me sharing his medical problems with the world. It's nothing life-threatening but more of a quality of life issue. This time he's having a couple of artificial parts put inside him. We've tried to tell him that afterwards he'll kind of be like a Cyborg, which he thinks is cool. He'd still prefer not to have the surgery though. I feel the same. The procedure should last about two hours. As the date gets closer I find myself waking up in the middle of the night having anxiety attacks about all the "what ifs?". I know that worrying won't change the outcome but I can't help myself. My motto: "Worrying-- it's what I do".
I know it's easier to pray for people if you have a visual image. Here are a couple of photos of my son from last week. One night he decided to wear his robe around the house like a backwards Snuggie? Why? Even he didn't know why. He just thought it was funny. And it was.
I'm the worst kind of asshole-- I think I'm funny.
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