I want a winning lottery ticket. Or a rich relative who thinks I'm deserving of their inheritance, and conveniently dies. But neither of those things will happen.
Recently I came across this blog entry that made me think of all the
When I was about 15 and my next closest sister was about 13, my dad was pastor of a small church in NC. We didn't have much money, and Mom worked hard to stretch our pennies. She shopped hard, and by the week before Christmas she was ready for the big day. Santa was done, finished with his prep work.
That's when my sister saw a television ad for something called "The Skin Machine". (See the video below, at about 30 seconds in.)
The Skin Machine appealed to a teen girl, and my sister decided she HAD to have it. It would cure all her teen ills and make her attractive to all. And she MUST have it as part of her Christmas. So she appealed to the source - Mom. And Sis told mom she really, really wanted this.
And Mom said no, her Christmas shopping was done. That was the end, as far as she was concerned. Mom was not about to buy some TV crappe for my sister at the last minute.
But it wasn't the end of the argument. Sis appealed further, trying hard to make her case. She demanded The Skin Machine in an obnoxious fashion, as teens will, over and over.
And something in Mom snapped!
|This is not my mother|
She got a weird glint in her eyes and said, "Santa knows what you need!"
Sis said, "C'mon Mom, I'm not kidding. Stop it!"
Mom (AKA Santa): Santa KNOWS!
Sis: Mom, cut it out. I want that!
Santa: Santa knows! Santa knows what you NEED!
Santa chuckled and left the room, leaving my sister to pout.
And Santa DID know.
That Christmas, my sister got Santa's special version of The Skin Machine in her stocking.
A bar of soap and a Brillo pad.