To My Four Beautiful Angels:
It is with moderate sadness that I must inform you that there will not be Christmas presents under the tree this year. I know it is tough to swallow, but you must hear the truth. Your mother is an addict. My drug of choice skyrocketed to popularity in the early 1980s and became hottest drug out there with maybe one thrilling exception. I became hooked at the fragile age of nine. Your grandmother tried to limit my exposure, heeding the warnings the Phil Donahue and Tipper Gore. But, I just used behind her back. When my most people moved on to more relevant stimulants in the 1990s while my favorite elixir underwent a dreadful name change, I stayed committed. Today, my addiction to Prince remains intact despite his age and flavorless presentation.
In order to satiate my need for all things Prince, your father and I will be traveling to the IZOD Center in New Jersey to see Prince a few days before Christmas, which means we’ll have to cut back this year on non-essentials, like your Christmas presents. To make it up to you, here is what we have to offer: While we are gone you can stay up as late as you want and eat as much junk food as you desire. And, here’s the good part: You do not have to donate any of your toys to charity this year. Instead, you can wrap up your gently used crap and exchange it amongst each other. It will feel like Christmas until you see what exactly is inside the boxes, which will just dash your dreams and ultimately create one of your worst childhood memories ever. But you know, sometimes life just isn’t fair. Sometimes you have to sacrifice to make those around you happy.
Remember children: It is better to give than to receive. This year, you will be giving to your mother. As consolation, I’ll bring home a concert t-shirt that you all can take turns wearing. See not so bad after all.
I am glad that we have resolved this matter amicably, and it will be a very Merry Christmas -- well at least for me.
Love always,
Your Mother
