Dear Jon’s Children,
I’ve tried, children. I’ve tried to be nice. For days now, I’ve sat quietly on a shelf, or hung from the Christmas tree, or peered down upon you from atop the mantle or the cabinets or the china cupboard or whatever other wacky spot it was into which I’d been wedged. And I’ve tried.
I’ve tried, by virtue of my silent presence, to gently coax you into compliance with your parents’ wishes. And I had hoped that my mere presence alone would be enough to keep you in line … but, after the display the two of you put on this morning, it has become clear to me that my pixie-ish grin and my kind, blue eyes aren’t getting the message across … so here’s how it’s gonna be:
