Dear Santa

My dear Santa, I know you and, I mean, the elves are busy with the toys and the cheer and all that, but I just wanted to put in what I realize is a pretty last-minute request.

I need an elf.

Or a wife.

Or a project manager.

Or at the very least, an intern.

That's why this request is so late. There was no one to remind me to make it.

There was also no one to countdown the number of shopping days until Christmas, which is why until earlier today, I had not bought a present for anyone other than Pie (and her gift was the one I'd intended to buy her last year). Can't the elves/Amazon even send a reminder email, Santa?

There was also no one to remind me that the Girl Scouts were going caroling at the nursing home this afternoon (some kind mother noticed Lucy milling around and called to ask if she should take her).

There is no food planned for the pre-Christmas gift exchange dinner we're having with Jason's family (oh, the gifts).

And these are just the handful of undone tasks THAT I KNOW ABOUT.

So, Santa baby, all I want for Christmas is an elf. You've got legions of them. I need a real self-starter. Someone enterprising, young, willing to share a room with Lu. In the event the elf can't reach the pedals on our cars, I'd need an elf willing to ride a tricycle or big wheel to run errands. We can provide this elf not only a loving home, but lots of opportunities and connections in the world of marketing.

And Santa, don't give me some crap about cultural mores and the weather and how hard it would be for this elf to adjust to life down here, because I know what kind of sweatshop you're running up at the North Pole. I hear that at least a couple of times a year, they find elves on ice floes off Greenland, seeking asylum.

So send me an elf. Alternately, send me a Mrs. Claus, because I hear you have several of those, too. And don't send the one who "knows her way around a Pole." Send the one who went to Northwestern. Or the one who bakes.

Look, Santa, I'm falling apart down here. You've got wives AND elves. Think of someone besides your fat self and the kids for once.

Lylas and Merry Christmas,