Holiday Stories and Poems

Dear Santa, I Know I'm Guilty

This is a letter of confession to Santa Claus. I sure hope he forgives me.

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Dear Santa, I Know I'm Guilty

Dear Santa,

I confess. I blew it again. I tried so very hard. I know I promised you last year I'd behave, and I did make good for 33 hours and 17 minutes. It's just the rest of the time kind of caused me some problems.

Oh, nothing too serious. I laughed at the Easter Bunny and hurt his feelings. I didn't give a valentine to the my teacher, and I forgot to take the garbage out five times last month, but the rest of the list of things I did wrong really aren't my fault, so please don't believe your elf spies. I'm sure it wasn't me who left the sprinklers on all afternoon and caused the street to flood, and I don't think it was my fault that the traffic backed up from San Jose to Los Angeles, California all because that play money flew out of the back of my daddy's pickup truck. Besides, I didn't mean for that to happen, honest.

Sure, I do make a few mistakes, but it's usually the things I do to help people that keep going wrong, just like what happened last week.

It all started out when my cat chased the mailman down the sidewalk in front of my house. I went running after them, picking up letters that the mailman was throwing at her, yelling for Princess to stop growling at the guy. Then when the mailman climbed up a tree, well, I did what every good citizen would do. I took the bag of mail that he'd dropped, and with all the other mail I had clutched in my hands, I started walking the man's route.

The first of the letters was for crotchety old Mrs. Peabody. She's so mean, Santa; she doesn't deserve any nice Christmas cards, so I passed her up and kept walking. Mr. Teedler is a totally different sort. He's so nice to everyone, that I decided to give him a good half of the mail from the mailman's pouch. I just knew Mr. Teedler'd appreciate getting it, and if he decided not to keep the letters and stuff, since they did have other people's names on them, I figured it would be a great way for him to get acquainted with all those people he didn't know. Why everyone knows Mr. Teedler's lonely. I think if he takes people's mail to them, why they'll probably invite him in for cookies and punch, and then they'll get all friendly with him, and he won't be lonely anymore.

Now wasn't that a nice thing I did, Santa?

The rest of the mail I distributed in the same way. I gave a couple of the packages of what I was pretty sure were boxes of chocolates to the two old lady spinster sisters down on Cooper Avenue. I gave a package that shook like it was books or something really heavy to the schoolteacher over on Sergeant Street. Then, I showered everyone who was nice with Christmas cards, saving the ones with the prettiest envelopes for the friendliest neighbors.

When I finished the mailman's route, I went back home and found the poor guy still sitting up the tree. Princess was very naughty, Santa. Remember that when you bring that catnip mouse you always drop down the chimney for her. You might want to give her a smaller one this year.

Anyway, I picked up my kitty, smoothed her fluffed-up hair back into place, and ignoring her rumbled growls and hisses, I carried her into the house.

"Don't worry about the mail," I called back to the mailman. "I delivered it all for you."

Now, Santa, see, don't you think everyone should be appreciative of my helpfulness? I thought so, but the whole neighborhood is mad at me, and Mrs. Claus who I saw in the store the other day and who listened to this whole story, told me that I should write you a letter of apology. So that's what I'm doing, Santa. I apologize for trying to be helpful and for not doing all those things I should have done, and for doing the wrong things when I shouldn't have done them. Okay?

I'm sure you'll understand, Santa, especially when I tell you that Mrs. Claus told me what happened to you when you were in second grade and . . . Whoops, I promised not to mention that, so I won't. It's a secret for always. Okay, Santa?

But just in case you do happen to think back over that time in second grade when you tried to help but didn't because -- you know - well, just in case you do forgive me, this Christmas what I really want is a police bike because the one I borrowed from in front of my next door neighbor's house when her brother, the policeman, stopped to pick up something, and I knew that my mother's car was in the shop and she needed a ride to the grocery store -- well, that bike kind of got smashed, and I think it would be a very good idea for me to replace it, don't you, Santa?


I do solemnly promise to be good all next year (or at least longer than this year).


Honestly,
Shaara

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