- Where does Santa live, exactly?
- How does he get to every house in one night?
- Is anyone else allowed to ride in the sleigh?
- What happens if he can't fit down the chimney?
- How does he eat so many cookies in one night?
- Is Rudolph real?
- What do reindeer eat?
- How did Santa know to get my doll the exact same pjs that you got me?
The trouble with Santa continues when he takes credit for gifts purchased with your hard-earned money - that's starting to tick me off.
I've realized that I don't care about Santa, but I've thoughtlessly trodden the wide path and am now chest-deep in the elaborate cover-up of someone I don't care about. My cover-up grew pretty thin over the last week, I noticed:
- Well, books about Santa say he lives in the North Pole.
- That seems impossible, doesn't it?
- I am not aware of any illustrations of Santa with passengers.
- He must just drop the presents and hope for the best.
- Have you ever seen a deer with a red nose?
They noticed nothing. You're welcome, Santa - and don't think twice about the matching pj set - it's on my Visa.
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