Nina In New York: All I Want For Christmas Is Everything You've Got

A lighthearted look at news, events, culture and everyday life in New York. The opinions expressed are solely those of the writer.
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By Nina Pajak

Hey mom. It's me, your toddler. I'm only 2 1/2, but I feel like I've learned a lot in my brief years. Like, a lot a lot. Maybe even everything? Is that possible? I know there are still some holes to be filled, such as why, and when, and what'd ya say? And more? And then, why not more? But I know my ABCs, and I know how to count to eleventeen, and I know all the words to every song Dora ever hollered. And I'll tell you, over the last few months I've become fairly certain that I'm approaching the point of knowing pretty much all of the stuff I need to know. And so, as you've likely surmised, I've got a pretty good handle on what I want and don't want. For instance, for the trillionth time: I don't want to taste tortellini. I don't care about the properties it shares with other closely related foods I love. I know I'll hate it. Similarly, I know I don't want a bath. And I know I don't want to help clean up or put my shoes on or use the potty ever in my life. When you know, you know.

It isn't all negative though, Mommy! I've figured out this whole Christmas thing, at least to the extent that I understand that you somehow communicate my wishes to Santa, and I've worked up a list of what I want him to bring. Chanukah was okay, but Jewish Santa doesn't seem to have received my memo. So I'm leaving nothing to chance at this point. I've only got one shot left at this calendar year, after all.

1. Your iPad. I guess you've seen this one coming for a while. I've been referring to it as "my iPad" for some time. It is mine, really, isn't it? Let's make it official. And take that passcode off there before you hand it over, please.
2. All the lollipops in the world. I trust this can be arranged.
3. That piece of crap toy spyglass I got at the dentist seven months ago, which I immediately broke then lost. Where is it? Can I have it? Wasn't that just last week? Can I have it now? How about now?
4. Your lunch. I agree, it does look remarkably similar to mine. Identical, even. Nevertheless. Here, you can have mine. I dug my dirty thumbnail into parts of it and scraped off most of the cheese with my teeth, but it's still good.
5. Your jewelry. The good stuff, too. Don't worry, I'll be careful.
6. That satanic baby toy that never stopped singing which mysteriously "broke" and was relocated down to the garage over a year ago. I just caught a glimpse of it today and I can say with absolute confidence that there is nothing else on this Earth I'd rather play with.
7. A sip of your coffee. Please? Please. I just know I'm going to love it. It looks so delicious! Please! I need it. And I shall have it, too. Mark my words.
8. A live baby to hold and squeeze and and love and cuddle and then ignore like all my other toys. Can I have one? My friends have some, and theirs are soooooo cute. I promise to maintain an occasional, passing interest in it. I can't see how it would make my life any worse. NB: My preference is that this baby be a cartoon tiger baby somehow made flesh and blood. Thx.
9. To defecate on the floor with impunity. We both hate the diaper changes, but I swear on my bunny's life that I will not be using that potty willingly. Let's make this easier on all parties.
10. Unfettered access to your bed at all hours of the day or night. Of course, I can't lie in it alone. And while we're here, can you pass me my iPad?

Nina Pajak is a writer living with her husband, daughter and dog in Queens. Connect with Nina on Twitter!