Wish List for Santa Part 1: A Dream Babysitter

Dear Santa,

It’s that time of year again! I’m sure you get tons of letters asking for bikes, Barbie houses, and Transformers. You must be tired of good old capitalism. Well, cheer up, old man— my wishes are not things you can buy in a store.

They fall into the whimsical, miracle area. I totally think we need to bring that back. Before you send me to a different department and tell me to ask God, I’ll stop you right there— I’ve already asked God and every deceased family member. I’ve got my street team working for me up above, I hope.

I know that you physically exist; I’ve seen you at the mall, at church, and even waiting for a bus when your sleigh broke down. I’m sorry I didn’t stop to offer you a ride, but it was really cold out there and I was in a hurry.  

Since my requests are a tad specific, I’ll ask you for them in separate letters. I figure if you lose one of the letters, at least I’ll still have a shot at getting something else. Here’s my first wish:



A Dream Babysitter

I realize this might be a repeat request.

Dream Babysitter is super-professional, but not snooty. She’s available every time I call her, yet she doesn’t expect me to hire her full time. She’s OCD and loves to clean and keep things tidy, and goes way beyond her assigned duties. She’s into educational stuff, but when she sees my daughter watching SpongeBob, she won’t judge me. Ever. She’s kind, warm, and has a natural maternal instinct — but she has no kids of her own and doesn’t want them anytime soon. In fact, she doesn’t even have nieces or nephews, which is why she loves to work with children.

She’ll always say great things about me if I ever recommend her to my friends. However, she’ll trust me, and if a neighbor in the Stepford Wives club (I was never allowed in, but I stole a copy of the manual once and read the rules) does something unacceptable, such as feeding the baby formula instead of breast feeding, about which she constantly raves, Dream Babysitter will tell me about it in confidence.

She not only loves dogs, but also has a degree in animal psychology, so she will be able to handle my three crazy pugs. Unlike the other weenies, she won’t let Bella’s energetic personality or Gypsy’s cancer medication schedule scare her away. No. Dream Babysitter is strong.

Dream Babysitter also has a boyfriend who works out of town and whom she doesn’t see often. He’s a little bit better than an internet boyfriend who lives across the country really, but she doesn’t mind. Neither do I.

Dream Babysitter is pretty, but not pretty enough to make me jealous. You could send me a thin one, if all the other ones are taken—but she must be into baking homemade cookies with my daughter. Oh yes. She loves to make mac and cheese from scratch, and although she disapproves of the chips I have in my pantry, she’d never voice it to anyone. Not even to the Stepford Wives down the street, who might pay her a tiny bit more than I do.

Dream Babysitter loves my child, although not in a weird way. She’ll tell me that my daughter is the smartest kid she’s ever babysat. Dream Babysitter will never lie to me; she can lie about me, but only if it makes me look good. She admires me—she thinks I’m funny and likeable, and she molds herself after me. In fact, she often asks for advice on her life—which I can relive vicariously.

We’re friends, but without any female competition or cattiness. I’m proud to give her solid advice on her decision not to have kids, encourage her to keep her long distance boyfriend instead of giving her neighborhood crush a try, and fully agree with her mom, who doesn’t want her to move to a city with better opportunities in her field. I do all of this selflessly, out of the kindness of my heart.

So there it is, Santa. Wish number 1 out of the way! Please make this happen. Pretty please.

Now, tell me that this doesn’t sound better than a trampoline or a Wii.