First letter to Santa

Dear Santa,
This is Everett, and we haven’t ever met. But I hear you are a really nice guy, and you have a beard several times longer than my grandpa. Apparently, you are the person to ask about possible gifts for Christmas. Though, not sure why I would need to ask for anything, since I have grandparents. I guess, the more old people knowing what I want then the better chance of getting everything on the list.

A saddle, because I know deep down that Summit really wants me to ride him.

Toys. Have you heard of these things? They’re the best.

A letter notifying my parents that bath time must happen every single day.

More dogs. Ideally, every room I crawl into has at least one dog waiting for me to pet it and play ball together.

Cheese, please.

An elf to distract my mom and dad, so I can finally stick my head into Summit’s water dish. I’m pretty sure something awesome will happen.

Dance lessons. I don’t need them, obviously. My dad needs to learn how to keep up with my moves.

More stairs. I’ve already conquered the ones in our house.

Crumpled paper. The gift that never stops entertaining.

Books. They’re an excellent way to spend an afternoon, even if avocado tastes way better.

More chairs. I’ve already pulled myself up on every chair in the house to see the seats. It is time for new scenery.

A mask. Christmas brings relatives, and they like slobbery kisses.

More cheese, please.

iPad. Daddy keeps telling me I really want one.

A new address so bills stop coming to our house. Apparently, these things are the reason my daddy doesn’t play with me all day.

Cardboard box.

Slower time. My daddy keeps looking at me, and shaking his head about how it goes too fast. Maybe our version is defective?

But you know what Santa; it is okay if you can’t give me these things. I already have my mommy, daddy and Summit. Being with them makes me really happy, because I love them.

But seriously, there is never enough cheese in this house.

Sincerely,

Everett