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Dear Santa,

Hi there. I know it's been a while; sorry about that. I am also aware that this is your busiest time of year, so I'll try to make this brief.

This is what I want for Christmas: No more youth admissions until after the first of the year. I don't care what you have to do, but I don't want to have to see another minor, kid, child, rugrat, squirt, fruit of loins, tween or teen. This business of locking them away is not good for my complexion or my otherwise exuberant* outlook on life. Besides, what kid possibly wants to be in a psych ward this time of year?

And while we're at it, could you please leave word with the neophytes that writing stuff down doesn't work for me? When they take pen to paper and record such thoughts as "I want to snuff myself" or "I'm feeling quite Columbine today" then I can't ignore it! And really? Ignoring such prose is my preferred modus operandi. There's a reason I don't work in child welfare anymore. I'm really fine without knowing that kids are sexually abused. And have grandmothers who marry convicted child molesters. And are beaten and emotionally traumatized by their mothers. And are bullied--

Speaking of bullies. The mean kid who dug through my patient's backpack without permission and then passed around her suicide note to all the alpha girls? Lump of coal on Christmas morning. Seriously.

Thanks so much for your time and consideration! If you can pull this off, I won't even request Valomilks in my stocking. Well...I don't know. If there's ever a time to play the "I'm A Social Worker" card, Valomilks in the stocking is definitely the time. Never mind on that non request.

Regards,

Reas

*Sarcasm. In case you, my dear reader, were wondering.