I vowed to write a first at last. I’d never done this in the past.
I thought there would be nothing to it. It seemed like anyone could do it.
I brought my family all together, so we could write a Christmas letter.
I read those I’d received from others. Written with love by grandmas or mothers.
I said, “These can be a great example, but our own exciting times are ample.”
One friend’s son has lots of knowledge. He’s only ten and goes to college.
I asked. “Who has something that compares?” All I saw were empty stares.
My son read, “This mom said she lost a ton. Now she out-runs everyone.”
A daughter said, “Mom don’t be sad. look at all the fun you had, eating donuts, pies, and cake. Who needs to run for heaven’s sake.”
Ignoring her I forged ahead. “Let’s write about our trips instead.”
“Do I have a volunteer to highlight our time-off last year?”
“You said we’d soon be on vacation, and then you changed it to staycation.
Instead of seeing Disneyland and building castles in the sand…
We stayed right here in our own house and drew lots of pictures of Mickey Mouse.”
Had I been overconfident? There must be one accomplishment.
“Did anyone get to school on time, clean their room or solve a crime?”
They were reading others news and it was giving them the blues.
I said, “Let’s not continue this. We’ll send out pretty cards this Christmas.”
“We should not antagonize those with less exciting lives.”
Those 70ish Girls 