Dear Black, slightly diabetic, but not to the point of being on insulin, Santa,
Wutup? Hope all is well. How’s Mrs. Claus doing? She good? I’m sure she’s filling the South Pole airwaves with the Patti LaBelle Christmas album. I don’t even know if Patti LaBelle made a Christmas album, but if she did, best believe Mrs. Claus blasting that mf.
Mrs. Claus always reminded me of the Candy Lady in every black neighborhood (no matter the income). In hindsight, the Candy Lady was low key the first time most of us supported black businesses. Anyway, enough about Mrs. Clause, I’m writing you about these kids, more specifically, my kids.
So as you may (or may not) know, I have two kids. A 5 year old and a soon to be 2 year old, to be exact. Yeah, I know, I’m so lucky. So..so..so very lucky. And get this, my 5 year old even wrote you a letter. She, with incredible penmanship, thoughtfully listed what she wanted for Christmas. I was so proud of her. Her mother was so proud of her. We were all so proud of her.
With that said, you can just ignore that letter.
Yeah, that’s right. Ignore it. She don’t deserve shit. And it’s not because she’s not a good kid. Like, she’s ok, I guess. Plus, she’s extremely smart. And I mean that. Like, I know most parents call their kid smart, but this one is really smart. Brilliant, in fact. But, and how can I put this, she ain’t shit, and she let her “ain’t shitness” shine high and bright during this quarantine.
I mean, I don’t know about your kids and/or elves, or whatever situation you got going on over there, but my kids are truly ungrateful. And the 5 year old is worse, but she can intelligently articulate her mf ungratefulness. She begrudgingly says “thank you” only when you remind her. Getting her to clean her room requires an act of God. No, worse, an act of Congress. She’s gotten so confident in her “ain’t shitness” that she will use her manners when she refuses to do something. “Harper, put your dish in the sink,” I ask. “No, thank you,” she replies.
And then there is the soon to be 2 year old. I mean, she cool. Ok, let me lie to you, because I know how you track shit. She WAS cool. But now, as she inches closer to two, her terribleness grows stronger and stronger. And as you know, the more terrible they are, the more ain’t shit they are. We can’t contain her. And even if you take the random outburst out of the equation, some of her diapers are so disrespectful, that we have considered, on several occasions, to turn her vegan, in hopes that the smell would not be as wretched.
Santa, I hope this letter finds you well. Instead of toys, we request that you send coal, manners and some gawd damn sense these kids way.
Harper and Harlow’s Parents
Leslie McLemore writes about a lot of different shit for Black With No Chaser. He is also the Takeaway Kang and is the father of two beautiful girls, one of which gets on every nerve he has. The other one is sweet. So, you know, balance.
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