Thanks for coming last week. I especially loved how you worked all through the night to set up that amazing trampoline. That must have been hard and cold and I hope your hand feels better. Neither of us could have guessed that in the seven days since your amazing efforts, it would have either rained, had strong winds, or the whole world–especially the
trampoline bed–would be covered in spikey sycamore balls every single day. So no one has really jumped on that awesome gift yet. But don’t worry. I bet the kids will be out there ALL the TIME. Me too. I am going to pretty much become a gymnast again. So it was worth it and your ideas are great.
That all said, I wanted to take this opportunity to let you know that next year you have to up your sneakiness level. Abigail–my oldest, I am sure you know her; squeaked by, just barely onto the nice list–is very rational and very observant. She notices Amazon boxes and American Girl boxes and handwriting similarities and we-have-that-in-the-house-from-Target wrapping paper. So you were a bit, shall we say, cavalier this year. We both hoped you’d be able to get away with it in second grade. Nope.
Also, mind manufacturing labels. Abigail noticed that her doll was “Made in China” but you live, and so presumably work, in the North Pole. Noting this discrepancy, combined with the other things I mentioned, Abigail posited a hypothesis that you are really “parents.” Evie set her straight, as she often does, with a theory about how you travel around collecting toys in advance made all around the world, then re-travel around distributing them, but we’ve got a skeptic. So, just, heads up.
Sorry this letter isn’t as full of gratitude as I intended. Thanks for all the new socks, the llama pajamas, the candy that looked like it might have been taken last month from the leftover Halloween bucket, and all the magic.
348 shopping days and counting,