I don’t do Santa.
I realized over this wonderful Thanksgiving Holiday that some of my own family members don’t know this about us so I thought I’d share why (and how) we don’t do Santa at our house. Well, at least I don’t. Please don’t read this if you will be offended by someone who doesn’t really like the whole Santa thing. Cuz you will probably be offended. But you will get to learn a little something more about Melissa and her crazy ways. It’s your call. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya…
First off… I was the kid who showed up at Kindergarten literally never having heard of Santa before. There we were there coloring our little coloring sheets of some fat guy and of course I was coloring him rainbow stripes or something, just like everything, until my peer told me I was coloring him wrong… “whaddya mean WRONG? It’s MY picture!” was my response, until several informed me it was some guy named “Santa Claus” and he’s red and green. SO I colored his suit green… no no, the suit is red, the mittens are green… Okay… weirdness. So I ask my Dad when I get home about this Santa Claus deal, and of course he informs me that he was Saint Nicholaus and he went around paying the dowries for poor girls to marry and he traditionally wore green and rode on a goat. I really think I could have done without the green and goat part, though it was probably for the best as I shared my new-found knowledge with all my friends and they just thought my dad was either crazy or pulling my leg.





