by Lin Barrett

Created on: September 21, 2009

Dear Santa,

This year I have been as good as I can be. At staying out of trouble, I succeeded 79% of the time. At getting out of trouble, I also succeeded 79% of the time.

This means that I was in trouble and stayed there only 4.41% of the time ... and that my math skills are pretty solid, too. Isn't this good enough?

I mean, there was that time with the live pig on top of my former best friend's bedroom roof, but I only left it there because it was too heavy to carry when I climbed through the window.

And there was that time when I deliberately left the picnic basket at the bus stop, but geez, how many times do I hafta eat my mother's potato salad before the stuff stunts my growth?

And I know I clipped the string to my big sister's oh-so-swanky pearl necklace right before the Winter Dance, but she told on me about the pig! And Dad and I had a lot of fun getting it off the roof, although Mr. Danbury, my former best friend's Dad, wasn't real pleased with either one of us.

As for my little sister, I might have put the dead body on her pillow, but I swear to you I didn't kill her fish.

And Mom still hasn't found the frog in the pocket of her best heavy wool coat. It has to be dead by now. But she hasn't found it yet, so that doesn't count ... right? If she doesn't find it until after Christmas, it'll go on next year's list ... right?

Dad never did figure out that the bass he caught wasn't the one we ate for dinner, and I paid for that out of my own pocket, so that's on the good side, isn't it? I mean, it's not like I meant to run over it with my bike ... not the first time, and not the second one, either. The third time, it was my former best friend who hit it.

And as for my teacher: I don't like her, and she doesn't like me. That's not being wrong about anything, that's just the way it is. I do my homework, and if I forget to put it into my backpack sometimes ... I just do, okay? And I didn't put the worm inside her apple, although I wish I had a way to. I am glad I didn't eat it myself, though. I wonder if she bit just far enough to see the whole worm inside the apple, or if she only saw the uneaten half hanging out of the bitten-from part?

And Mr. Flugg, my principal, is wrong about me. I am not either a tomboy. (And if I were, what's so terrible about that?)

The most important item on my list is #37.

Sincerely yours,

Ashley Curran
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