Pray to Santa

[misterx]

Storm and I are driving to get Lorelei from swim, and we pass PetSmart, reminding me the dog needs a new dog bed.

"You know Storm, I'm thinking that I'm going to get Mr. Thompkins a new dog bed for Christmas."
"That's a good idea Dad," she agrees, "his old bed was really cute."
"The one that looked like a little couch?"
"Yeah."
"It's in his doghouse now, it got all beat up."
"Yeah."
"He doesn't look comfortable in the bed he has now. He kind of lays his head on the side and it looks like it's too small."
"Yeah."

We drive a bit. Storm has a eureka moment.
"Dad! You should pray to Santa for him to bring Thompkins a new bed, so he'll bring it on Christmas."
I pause to think about this... yeah, just plain weird. I better say something. I better say it... slowly...
"Storm... I think... that normally you pray to God... not Santa. I think you just ask Santa."
"Pray, ask, it's the same thing," she informs me. "You just say what you want into the air, or you just think it, and the thoughts go into Santa's head, and he knows what you want. Then he brings it for you on Christmas."
"Oh, well... ok. I guess that makes sense."
"Yep," she says, because of course, it does.
"Yep," I agree.
"Mind control." she says.
I start to say something, then realize I have no idea what I planned to say. I instead look at her in the rear view mirror. She grins at me.