But nope…Santa’s gone rogue and insists he’s skipping the Madhouse this year.
According to his letter he can’t keep up with my kids and is pretty sure that the children’s father and I have been paying them to make unrealistic requests and drive him to permanent retirement at the Breckenridge Home for the insane.
But I swear…that only happened once.
Well, twice, but we don’t talk about the 2nd incident with anyone outside of immediate family.
Plus our lawyer told us not to.
So…as I was saying, according to Santa my kids are driving him to indulge on egg nog with all of their wants and he’s totally done.
And more spoons.
Ya know, to replace the ones my kids use digging to China.
At this point you’re probably wondering what could have possibly happened that caused so much discourse in my interpersonal relationship with the fat man.