Earlier this morning, the Man-Cub handed me his letter to Santa so that I may proof-read it and make any corrections that needed to be made prior to him placing it under his pillow on December 5th for the elves to spirit away in the night. In the letter, he asks for a hat from one of the elves. Specifically, a real, honest to goodness Santa’s elf hat from a working elf at the North Pole.
Last Christmas, the Cub left a note on the plate of cookies that we leave out for Santa, begging for a bell from Rudolph’s harness. You have no idea the scramble that followed; finding a suitable harness bell at midnight on Christmas Eve is a bitch.
All of this leads me to the horrible conclusion that the Cub, at age eleven, is beginning to question the validity of Santa Claus and is desperately grasping for evidence of his existence.
That, or his sister ratted out the Big Guy a while ago and the Man-Cub is totally fucking with me.
Could go either way.
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