Merry Christmas

You know, a friend who believes in trans-everything, asked me recently how I know that Santa is a man.
I mean, it's obvious. What woman is going to wear the same outfit year after year.
Each year, though, I worry whether Santa will come to my house. I wouldn't say I live in a rough area but every advent calendar sold by the local store has half the windows boarded up.
And some of the local residents aren't all that bright, either. I told the kid over the road that Christmas was just around the corner and he went looking for it.
I think part of the kid's problem is his father. He told me yesterday that there's nothing like the joy on a kid's face when he first sees the PlayStation box containing the socks his father got him for Christmas.
Admittedly, raising kids ain't easy. If you enjoy arguing about lunches at 6am, have kids.
However, while we may joke about kids, personally, I don't think you should under-estimate them.
My daughter has this weird talent of being able to identify what's inside a wrapped present. She says it's a gift.
Most modern kids are definitely not thick. The kids next door wanted a puppy, so they kept begging their parents for a baby brother.
Kids and Santa Claus, it's a Christmas thing.
Actually I was reading an interesting article recent that said that, embodied in Santa Claus are the three stages of man: He believes in Santa Claus. He doesn't believe in Santa Claus. He is Santa Claus.
And to reinforce that truth, it's a fact that it's always the husband who's the Santa Claus. The giver. And giving is an important part in any marriage.
The guy next door says that his wife has set a limit on how much they can spend on each other for Christmas. It's $100 on him and $500 on her.
Then, of course, there are the presents for the relatives. I have to admit that I wasn't planning on giving the mother-in-law a Christmas gift this year. Then I heard about those exploding Samsung Galaxy phones.
And talking about smartphones, we come to modern technology and Christmas.
Last Christmas, after Christmas dinner I entered what I had eaten into my new smartphone fitness app. It immediately sent an ambulance to my house.
The year before that, I was going to cook a surprise Christmas dinner for the family but the fire engines ruined it.
This year, the wife wants to have takeaways for Christmas to lower the stress level of the occasion. I'm going to suggest that we have Subway, because it's definitely the healthiest as you have to get out of the car.
The kids, smart asses that they are, says that for Christmas we should order a chicken and an egg separately online from Countdown and see which comes first.
I have to admit that writing this has been difficult because I'm lying helpless on the floor, my hands tied and my mouth covered with tape. I never could get the hang of wrapping Christmas presents.