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Children, Christmas, and Cookies: "In our family, we have a special way of transitioning the kids from receiving from Santa, to becoming a Santa. This way, the Santa construct is not a lie that gets discovered, but an unfolding series of good deeds and Christmas spirit When they are 6 or 7, whenever you see that dawning suspicion that Santa may not be a material being, that means the child is ready | take them out "for coffee" at the local wherever. We get a booth, order our drinks, and the following pronouncement is made "You sure have arown an awful lot this year. Not only are you taller, but l can see that your heart has grown, too. [ Point out 2-3 examples of empathetic behavior, consideration of people's feelings, good deeds etc, the kıd has done in the past year]. In fact, your heart has grown so much that I think you are ready to become a Santa Claus You probably have noticed that most of the Santas you see are people dressed up ike him. Some of vour friends miaht have even told you that there is no Santa. A lot of children think that, because they arent ready to BE a Santa yet, but YOU ARE Tell me the best things about Santa. What does Santa get for all of his trouble? [lead the kid from cookies to the good feeling of having done something for someone else]. Well, now YOU are ready to do your first job as a Santa!" Make sure you maintain the proper conspiratorial tone We then have the child choose someone they know-a neighbor, usually. Ihe child'S mission is to secretly, deviously, find out something that the person needs, and then provide it, wrap it, deliver it-and never reveal to the target where it came from. Being a Santa isn't about getting credit, you see. It's unselfish giving My oldest chose the "witch lady" on the corner. She really Was horrible--had a fence around the house and would never let the kids go in and get a stray ball or Frisbee. Shed yell at them to play quieter, etc--a real pill. He noticed when we drove to school that she came out every morning to get her paper in bare feet, so he decided she needed slippers. So then he had to go spy and decide how big her feet were. He hid in the bushes one Saturday, and decided she was a medium. We went to Kmart and bought warm slippers. He wrapped them up, and tagged it "merry Christmas from Santa. After dinner one evening, he slipped down to her house, and slid the package under her driveway gate. The next morning, we watched her waddle out to get the paper, pick up the present, and go inside. My son was all excited, and couldn't wait to see what would happen next. The next morning, as we drove off, there she was, out getting her paper--wearing the slippers. He was ecstatic. I had to remind him that NO ONE could ever know what he did, or he wouldn't be a Santa Over the years, he chose a good number of targets, always coming up with a unique present just for them. One year, he polished up his bike, put a new seat on it, and gave it to one of our friend's daughters. These people were and are very poor. We did ask the dad if it was ok The look on her face, when she saw the bike on the patio with a big bow on it, was almost as good as the look on my son's face When it came time for Son #2 to join the ranks, my oldest came along, and helpeo with the induction speech. They are both excellent gifters, by the way, and never felt that they had been lied to-because they were let in on the Secret of Beinga Santa <p><a href="http://cunningcelt.tumblr.com/post/154582029645/hilarious-nefarious-source" class="tumblr_blog">cunningcelt</a>:</p><blockquote> <p><a href="https://hilarious-nefarious.tumblr.com/post/154579127965/source" class="tumblr_blog">hilarious-nefarious</a>:</p> <blockquote><p><a href="http://imgur.com/gallery/qHrK6">Source</a><br/></p></blockquote> <p>This is bloody genius</p> </blockquote> <p>Love this. I’ve often thought about how to incorporate the magic of “Santa” with the real lessons in generosity as inspired by St. Nicholas.</p>
Ass, Broomstick, and Fucking: <p><a href="https://pesky-plumbers.tumblr.com/post/162032421700/grawly-pesky-plumbers" class="tumblr_blog">pesky-plumbers</a>:</p><blockquote> <p><a href="http://grawly.tumblr.com/post/162032267123/pesky-plumbers-tremendouslysizzlingsandwich" class="tumblr_blog">grawly</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p><a href="https://pesky-plumbers.tumblr.com/post/162032201280/tremendouslysizzlingsandwich-pesky-plumbers" class="tumblr_blog">pesky-plumbers</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p><a href="https://tremendouslysizzlingsandwich.tumblr.com/post/162031946310/pesky-plumbers-unyieldingjustice" class="tumblr_blog">tremendouslysizzlingsandwich</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p><a href="https://pesky-plumbers.tumblr.com/post/162031769240/unyieldingjustice-pesky-plumbers" class="tumblr_blog">pesky-plumbers</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p><a href="https://unyielding--justice.tumblr.com/post/162030594502/pesky-plumbers-graffyn-guy-pesky-plumbers" class="tumblr_blog">unyielding–justice</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p><a href="https://pesky-plumbers.tumblr.com/post/162023691740/graffyn-guy-pesky-plumbers" class="tumblr_blog">pesky-plumbers</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p><a href="https://graffyn-guy.tumblr.com/post/162023006267/pesky-plumbers-treaclethetortoise" class="tumblr_blog">graffyn-guy</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p><a href="https://pesky-plumbers.tumblr.com/post/162022483930/treaclethetortoise-pesky-plumbers" class="tumblr_blog">pesky-plumbers</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p><a href="https://treaclethetortoise.tumblr.com/post/162018869289/pesky-plumbers-graffyn-guy-the-funniest-part" class="tumblr_blog">treaclethetortoise</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p><a href="https://pesky-plumbers.tumblr.com/post/161674881830/graffyn-guy-the-funniest-part-of-this-to-me-is" class="tumblr_blog">pesky-plumbers</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p><a href="https://graffyn-guy.tumblr.com/post/161564369027/the-funniest-part-of-this-to-me-is-that-they" class="tumblr_blog">graffyn-guy</a>:</p> <blockquote><p>The funniest part of this, to me, is that they didn’t use the “G” in Super Mario Galaxy? </p></blockquote> <figure class="tmblr-full" data-orig-height="953" data-orig-width="1300"><img src="https://78.media.tumblr.com/c014ec327aad6f9ce8ab5b93ea16dd61/tumblr_inline_orcv963Ttq1uz02ag_540.png" data-orig-height="953" data-orig-width="1300"/></figure></blockquote> <p>There is no war in Ba Sing Se</p> <p>The Moon landing was faked</p> <p>Major words in Mario games have never used a G</p> </blockquote> <p>please stop bringing attention to my mistakes i already feel terrible</p> <figure class="tmblr-full" data-orig-height="241" data-orig-width="377"><img src="https://78.media.tumblr.com/f6b30f973d0c98d5fc29b36c6e05591d/tumblr_inline_orthb451wl1uz02ag_540.png" data-orig-height="241" data-orig-width="377"/></figure></blockquote> <p>What about the H in Super Mario Sunshine? <a class="tumblelog" href="https://tmblr.co/mFS5Vz1oJoQnZCd8J4r06_Q">@pesky-plumbers</a></p> </blockquote> <figure class="tmblr-full" data-orig-height="328" data-orig-width="444"><img src="https://78.media.tumblr.com/2ee795ddde4fa2e9490142b868683783/tumblr_inline_ortj1x9dj61uz02ag_540.png" data-orig-height="328" data-orig-width="444"/></figure></blockquote> <a class="tumblelog" href="https://tmblr.co/mFS5Vz1oJoQnZCd8J4r06_Q">@pesky-plumbers</a> what about the F from Mario Golf?</blockquote> <figure data-orig-width="450" data-orig-height="300" class="tmblr-full"><img src="https://78.media.tumblr.com/d3dcd065f70f69a54813c08ea84e40b9/tumblr_inline_ortum88eAF1uz02ag_540.png" alt="image" data-orig-width="450" data-orig-height="300"/></figure></blockquote> <p>y in mario party</p> </blockquote> <p>this one is actually justified so kiss my fucking ass ok the Y is from Mario Teaches Typing</p> <figure class="tmblr-full" data-orig-height="408" data-orig-width="648"><img src="https://78.media.tumblr.com/14ebd76fc4ab160e1e203e48784af1c9/tumblr_inline_ortv60vdqj1uz02ag_540.png" data-orig-height="408" data-orig-width="648"/></figure><p>your ass tryina 1-up me like everyone else but you failed uwu</p> </blockquote> <p>there was a g in this one too tho</p> </blockquote> <figure class="tmblr-full" data-orig-height="214" data-orig-width="426"><img src="https://78.media.tumblr.com/77aafb87cb61f97e1e7cf10204e5e876/tumblr_inline_ortvkcZ4Jt1uz02ag_540.gif" data-orig-height="214" data-orig-width="426"/></figure></blockquote>
Being Alone, Beautiful, and Clock: 0003 d 0Gh 48m 24s <p><a class="tumblr_blog" href="http://ishkaqwiaidurugnul.tumblr.com/post/105026608914">ishkaqwiaidurugnul</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p><a class="tumblr_blog" href="http://vonmunsterr.tumblr.com/post/85388049237">vonmunsterr</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p><a class="tumblr_blog" href="http://ghostsneverleave.tumblr.com/post/85243110194">ghostsneverleave</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p><a class="tumblr_blog" href="http://insanihty.tumblr.com/post/85144886702">insanihty</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p><a class="tumblr_blog" href="http://xxarcane.tumblr.com/post/84873852950">xxarcane</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p><a class="tumblr_blog" href="http://youremybrandnewday.tumblr.com/post/84793166680">youremybrandnewday</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p><a class="tumblr_blog" href="http://sp0tlessmiind.tumblr.com/post/80710248945">sp0tlessmiind</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p><a class="tumblr_blog" href="http://tiptreecrossing.tumblr.com/post/68707337582">tiptreecrossing</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p><a class="tumblr_blog" href="http://livingmywayeveryday.tumblr.com/post/39004186570">livingmywayeveryday</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p><a class="tumblr_blog" href="http://vickified.tumblr.com/post/32749023299">vickified</a>:</p> <blockquote> <blockquote> <p><em>“<span>If a clock could count down to the moment you meet your soul mate, would you want to know?</span>”</em></p> </blockquote> <p>lol yes, so then i can shave.</p> </blockquote> <p>     One minute, 37 seconds.<br/>     My legs are shaking. Holy cow, there is no way I can do this. None.<br/>     One minute, 29 secods.<br/>     I glance around at the faces surrounding the room. Of course my Meeting would take place in the gross, overcrowded cafeteria.<br/>     One minute, six seconds.<br/>     Somewhere within these four walls, someone has the exact same countdown on their wrist. They’re going through the exact same pressure as me.<br/>      54 seconds.<br/>     Mom said I should be excited, not nervous. Yet I still find myself wiping my sweaty palms on my dress. I can’t believe she talked me into wearing a dress. I mean, shouldn’t  my Soul Mate meet me as I normally am? All plain jeans, blah shirts, and wild brown curls?<br/>     30 seconds.<br/>     Something deep within me tells me to stand up. I do, drawing the attention of my tablemates. They all know too. They smile encouragingly up at me. I chew my lip nervously.<br/>     25 seconds.<br/>     That same feeling pulls me towards the center of the room. My stomach drops away from me as I take a step in that direction.<br/>     20 seconds.<br/>     I continue in that direction. With each step the tempo of my heart picks up.<br/>     19. Faster.<br/>     18. Quicker.<br/>     17. More rapid.<br/>     16.  It’s racing.<br/>     Oh my god this is it. The moment my life changes forever.<br/>     My eyes search frantically around the cafeteria, searching for someone who looks as nervous as me. For someone who’s heading towards their future with no sense of direction like me.<br/>     10 seconds.<br/>     The feeling directs me slightly to the left. I turn to accomodate.<br/>     5. My heart has given up entirely.<br/>     4. I stop walking.<br/>     3. Just waiting left.<br/>     2. Everything is about to change.<br/>     1. Deep breath.</p> <p>     0000 d 00 h  00 m  00 s</p> <p>     Someone bumps my shoulder. I twirl around and my gray eyes meet blue, blue ones.<br/>     “Hello there, love. It appears as though we’re Soul Mates then, eh?”<br/>     As my words fail me, the only thing I can think is “I’m so glad I shaved this morning.”</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p>“Thats weird…” I checked my wrist, the clock had just hit the 30 second mark but I looked around and there was no one there. I was a worrisome guy overall but I felt justified, I mean today was the day I was meeting my soul mate. Not that I expected my dream girl to be in the storage closet at work but still I was nervous. </p> <p>Walking out with a box the boss had requested I walked back to my cash register setting it on the shelf. My wrist hit the 20 second mark</p> <p>19 seconds</p> <p>18 seconds</p> <p>Where was she? I could not help but get worried that an error would pop up or that she was gone and my timer would run out with no response. I panicked, I’d change my own fate if I had to. Running out of time I hurried through the back door. There was a park outside and maybe I was supposed to be there to find my soul mate. </p> <p>10 seconds</p> <p>9 seconds</p> <p>A faint ding of the doorbell hit my ear. Wait was that it?? She was here! I turned around running back to the counter. “Don’t worry I’m just in the back!”</p> <p>I ran out looking at my wrist as it hit zero. Out of breath “Hi I’m Matt!” Sticking out my hand for a handshake it was met by a firm hand. Meeting my soulmate’s eyes for the first time they spoke. </p> <p>“I’m Steven.” The man gave a smile “It’s nice to meet you.” </p> </blockquote> <p> I watch my friend carefully. Her excitement is glowing all over her pretty face. Exactly 2 minutes left, she tells me. We’re waiting at the bus stop and the bus is coming in two minutes. I think she hoped she’d meet them on a beach at sunset or something.<br/> ”I mean that’s ok - these things can’t always be romantic I mean my mum met dad when he was working at the book store and it’s not like you can plan it to be romantic I just hoped, I mean everyone hopes don’t they-” she breaks off, looking at me awkwardly. “Sorry. It’s just a big day for me you know.” Yes I do know. You’ve been going on about it for the past year. I smile at her.<br/> ”Don’t worry. You nervous? You’ll be ok, you always are,” I grin, determined not to ruin this for her. It’s selfish of me to be moody. This is her future being determined. Right here. In now, precisely 1 minute 30 seconds.<br/> She smiles at me, but it isn’t quite reaching her eyes. She’s restless and keeps tapping her foot. Her eyes are wide with.. fear? Excitement? Nerves? Probably all of them and a thousand more things I can’t imagine. She keeps checking her wrist. So do I. The bus comes around the corner. 1 minute 10 seconds.<br/> ”Hey. I’ll leave you alone now ok? The bus is here. I’ll sit a couple of seats away, and be there if you need me,” I say, squeezing her arm reassuringly. “Good luck.” I hope it sounded sincere.<br/><br/> The bus pulls up and I climb on first, taking a quick glance at her while I give the driver my ticket. She’s shaking and looks a little green. I want to give her a hug but know I shouldn’t interrupt now. I look at the passengers and it’s full of pensioners. My heart starts beating frantically. What? I can’t see anyone else at the bus stop. But she’s only 18, she can’t end up with a 80 year old. <br/> I turn around and look at her - she’s breathing hard. The bus driver asks if she’s ok but she ignores him. Her eyebrows are creased and her face is flushed. Oh. Oh no. Stay calm. Someone is probably late. I give her a thumbs up and try to smile reassuringly. I think it’s more of a grimace.<br/><br/> I take a seat near the back. Look at my watch. 25 seconds. She sits down a few seats away.</p> <p> Suddenly a dark shape runs past my window and a boy jumps on the bus. He has that same frantic look in his eyes. I breathe out with relief.<br/> ”Yeah get on, we’re running late,” the driver says, taking his ticket. The boy looks around, carefully stepping towards the seats. He’s tall and handsome, holding a sketchbook. I smile slightly; my friend hates art.<br/> 4 seconds<br/> He spots her.<br/> 3 seconds<br/> His eyes widen as he walks closer, as if being pulled by an invisible rope.<br/> 2 seconds<br/> My friend stands up too, that same rope tying her to him.<br/> 1 second -<br/> ”I was worried the bus would leave. No way could I miss meeting my soul mate!” he jokes, though he looks just as nervous as she. They smile at each other as they both sit down together. I can’t hear what they’re talking about.</p> <p> I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Suddenly I’m crying. Hot tears dropping down my cheeks.</p> <p> I look at my wrist, scratching at it. Trying to get rid of it. </p> <p> The numbers have never changed.</p> <p> They’ve always been at 0.</p> </blockquote> <div>Oh my god that last one…. My heart… The feels….</div> </blockquote> <p>AGH ALL OF YOU WRITE A BOOK THIS VERY INSTANT. PLEASE.</p> </blockquote> <p>this is beautiful and everyone needs to read it</p> </blockquote> <p>i hate you tumblr, fucking breaking my goddamn heart</p> </blockquote> <p>Then, one day, you’re having dinner with a friend you’ve known for as long as you can remember (or perhaps a friend of the family), and you finally talk to them about your counter. You’re crying, explaining that it’s always been at 0, and so you must not have a soul-mate.</p> <p>Their eyes widen. Tears begin to form, and they throw their arms around you.</p> <p>“Mine has always been at 0 too.”</p> <p>And that’s when you know…</p> </blockquote> <p>10 seconds: the doorbell rings, i get out of my chair<br/><br/>5 seconds: i give the man my money<br/><br/>0 seconds: i open the box. it is the most glorious pizza i have ever seen in my life.</p> </blockquote> <p>This post always has different stories on it and I always have to read it and reblog it</p> </blockquote> <p><a href="http://trustedwings.tumblr.com/post/131518606137/ishkaqwiaidurugnul-vonmunsterr">trustedwings</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p>Yeah but can I have that countdown for my period?</p></blockquote>