A Six-Year-Old’s Journal Entries at Christmas

Do I have a gem for you guys today, or what!? I recently came across my journal from first grade. Seeing as my 26-year-old self is constantly in an OhMyGodILoveChristmas mood, I knew that as a child, there must have been ridiculous things written. May I present Erica’s thoughts on this exact week 20 years ago (1993 for you math wizards).

Today is Monday. We had another snow day. I played in the snow.

Look, my drawing skills haven’t improved much these days, but my sense of seasons certainly has. This is quite obviously a girl working on her tan at the top of a hill on a beautiful spring day, not as I so aptly described “playing in the snow.” Looks like grass to me, kid.

Today is Tuesday. I am very excited about Christmas. I can’t wait until Santa comes.

No need to pretend I cared about the true meaning of Christmas – just BRING ME PRESENTS. I did a little bit better with the artwork, although I’ve never seen a purple tree trunk before. Also, is Santa sick? I know there’s been a lot of controversy about Santa’s skin color in the news recently. I don’t want to add to that, but maybe you’re all thinking too “black and white.” Perhaps, all along, my younger self had a vision that Santa was, in fact, orange. He also doesn’t have arms or legs -merely hands and feet (paws?) protruding directly from his torso. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

Today is Wednesday. Our holiday party is today. I can’t wait for the party.

Other than the fact that my holiday party is on Friday, not today, I literally expressed these very sentiments today. Also, can we just talk about what a politically correct child I was!? You’re welcome for using the term “holiday” and not “Christmas” at age six – especially when it’s clear that I was very Christmas/Santa/GIFTS focused. However, I again can’t get past the fact that I was under the impression our party would be outdoors under a bright warm sun. Oh, and obviously a rainbow of which I am the center.

Today is Thursday. Vacation starts tomorrow. I can’t wait for Christmas morning.

Ah, that’s more like it. Back to the gifts. However, this is a highly inaccurate drawing. First off, what is with the hairlines? Neither Nicole nor myself were (or are) balding except for where our ponytails are. Second, we would never look that polished on Christmas morning. I’d be wearing some sort of Dalmatian nightgown with my untamed hair going every which way, and probably holding the remnants of the cookies we left for Santa.


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