This past weekend, my brother took his four-year-old son to see Santa. After he got done, my brother asked him what he asked Santa for. My nephew said, "A DUMP TRUCK! I don't even want a dump truck, but I got so nervous up on his lap that I couldn't think of anything else. Next year, I don't want to sit on Santa's lap." Now he's worried that that's all Santa is going to bring him. Talk about a scene out of "A Christmas Story."

I remember when I was little, I asked Santa for a Speak & Spell. Oh the joy, to have a computer that gave me constant reinforcement for good spelling. Now I think, "What an N-E-R-D!" That Speak & Spell was my pride and joy, and I ran through batteries on that thing faster than the digital camera of a Japanese tourist. I even got modules for my birthday that had more words to spell. I admit that I have a SLIGHT obsession with correct spelling--and I'm sure that the Speak-N-Spell reinforced that. After all, how could I resist something that congratulated me with a monotone "good job" or "terrific" every time I spelled something correctly? I wonder if I would enjoy work more if everything I did was followed by a "nice going" or "you're great." Now I think about how my siblings surely thought I was the biggest dweeb--asking for an EDUCATIONAL toy when I could have asked for a video game or something! Fortunately I've outgrown that--I've moved on to asking for the standard frivolous items from Santa--a new patio door! Akk! What have I become?!? Maybe I should send an emergency letter to the North Pole and change my request to a dump truck, too!