Spiffing y'all up, one typo at a time
My girls are at the age when you begin to question the true identity of the man from the North Pole. Our family philosophy is and will continue to be, You have to believe to receive. I figure that’ll buy me some time at least until they’re in their 20s and I’m ready to handle that subject matter. (Yes, I’m a coward. And don’t talk to me about birds and bees and other delicate stuff. I can’t even begin to think about discussing those topics with them.)
Anyway, no matter what your family may call him—Santa, Kris Kringle, St. Nick—I figure there ought to be one more requirement for receiving his gifts: You should spell his name right.