A Grey Christmas

Ten, Nine, Eight...

Dear Santa,

Thank you for the best Christmas ever! The dinner was yummy! It made my tummy so full I couldn't fit any more inside. I never had that feeling before. I like that feeling. My tummy's not mad and growling at me now. It's smiling like my face. My mommy (who's helping me write this) says thank you, too. I never knew Santa could get people good jobs and health insurances and groceries every week! And the new house we're moving into isn't in a scary place anymore. It has a yard and a swing set and I won't have to take the bus on that long ride to school and back. I'll be near my friends. And Mommy can spend more time with me now, too. You must be better than a lightning strike on one hump of a two humped camel because Mommy said that was more likely to happen than ever finding my dad and making him pay for me. But, you made that happen, too. By the way, he called and says the checks will start up next week and said to tell you so the courts, the IRS (I guess he didn't report what he made and someone told) and some guy named Taylor will get off his back.

When I waked up on Christmas I had to rub my eyes over and over, 'cause I thought I was still dreaming, but I wasn't. The lights and the tree and the presents with my name on them were really real life. I never knew dreams could happen when you were awake. Now I do. I knew you were Santa right when I saw you, not because of the red suit or the white furry beard. 'Cause you have kind eyes and you listened to me.

I hope you and Mrs. Claus have a nice vacation after your business trip on your sleigh around the world. It must be tough being the most importantest guy on the earth. I don't care about all that. I'm just glad you're my friend.

Jeremiah

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TEN...

"Where is everybody?" I ask Taylor as he loads the SUV with seventeen bags for our four night stay in New York for New Year's. Honestly, how does a four-year-old girl have more luggage than me? How does a hamster? We were supposed to leave twenty-seven minutes ago! I've made a strict itinerary for us to follow so we get everything in—including ample mommy-and-me playtime. Not for the kids. For Ana and me. I've got some surprises in store for my wife that will knock her socks, her stilettos and her La Perla panties off.

"I think Mrs. Grey said she forgot something inside, sir."

"Forgot something inside? The whole house is packed in the back of this thing!" I point to the car. "I think inside forgot most of itself out here!"

A familiar roar steals my attention. Familiar, but smaller. Less lion, more cub.

I feel a swoosh against my pant leg and look down to see two mini Audi R8s driven by my two cubs go whizzing past my legs.

"What are you two doing?" I yell out as Teddy and Phoebe continue to do loops around me. It's like mini me car and driver.

"Races!" Phoebe says as she slams a foot on the pedal. I'm glad to see they're both wearing the helmets I've insisted upon. And so is Chester. I can see him peeking out from the pocket of Phoebe's sweater, wearing a leather bomber jacket and scarf as his fur flies dramatically in the rush of wind. He reminds me of the Red Baron. Either that or Howard Hughes in his Spruce Goose days.

"Stop!" I yell.

They bring their actions to a halt. I'm glad I still hold some authority around here.

"Daddy, I was winning!" Teddy says.

"No you wasn't!" Phoebe yells back. "You were just so far behind you thought you was."

"Kids! You're going in circles, no one is winning!" Especially me. In fact, I'm the one losing sleep and sanity ever since I gave them these things. From sun up to sun down it's like the Audi Daytona 500 around here. "Why are you in your cars right now?"