The glow in her face reflected the correct amount of money had been spent on her. She was such a mean and self-centered little brat. Her voice made this awful din, continuously thrumming when she didn’t get what she wanted—what a whiny cretin she was. Santa’s imaginary slide down the chimney and his short stint spent drinking the milk and cookies left for him made her wave her hands excitedly. He’d sure have a stain on his reputation had they not made it look convincing! Fiddling with the clasp on my chain, my thought was, “Score one for the parents!”
I Write Her 