DIARY of a Wimpy Kid

               November

Saturday

Most people look forward to the holidays, but the stretch between Thanksgiving and Christmas just makes me a nervous wreck. If you make a mistake in the first eleven months of the year, it’s no big deal. But if you do something wrong during the holiday season you’re gonna pay for it.

Maybe you would’ve got more presents if you hadn’t pinched your brother last week!

It’s too much pressure to be on your best behaviour for a whole month. The most I can really handle is six or seven days in a row. So if they moved Thanksgiving to the week before Christmas it would be fine by me.

Kids whose families don’t celebrate Christmas are lucky because they don’t have to stress out whenever they do something wrong at this time of year. In fact, I have a few friends in that category who I think act a little extra jerky around now just because they can.

(Trip ------------ Oops!)

The thing that really makes me nervous is this whole Santa issue. The fact that he can see you when you’re sleeping and knows when you’re awake really creeps me out. So I’ve started wearing sweatpants to bed because I really don’t need Santa seeing me in my underwear.

I’m not really convinced that Santa has the time to keep an eye on you twenty-four hours a day anyway.

I figure he can only check in on each kid once or twice a year for a few seconds- and, with my luck, that happens at the most embarrassing moments.

(That’s Disgusting!)

If Santa really Does see everything you do, then I could be in trouble. So, when I wrote to him, I don’t say what I want for Christmas and all that. I use my letters to paint myself in the best possible light.

(Dear Santa, I did not throw a crab apple at Mrs Taylor’s cat, even though it might’ve looked that way from a distance. Sincerely Greg Heffley)

Then there’s this ‘Naughty or Nice ‘list they’re always talking about. You hear about it, but you never actually get to See it, so it’s up to grown-ups to tell you where you stand at any given moment. And something about that just doesn’t seem right.

(If you help me with these groceries, I’ll bet it will be just enough to make Santa’s ‘Nice’ List!)

I kind of wonder how accurate the list really is anyway. There’s a kid named Jared Pyle who lives up the street from me, and if there’s Anyone who deserves to be on the ‘Naughty’ list it’s him. But last year he got a dirt bike for Christmas, so don’t even ask me What Santa was thinking on that one.

It’s not just Santa I’ve got to worry about, either. Last year, when Mom was going through some old boxes, she found a homemade doll from her childhood.

Mom said the doll is called ‘Santa’s Scout’ and that his job is to watch how kids behave and then report back to Santa at the North Pole.

Well, I’m not a fan of that idea. First of all, I think you have a right to privacy in your own home. And, second, Santa’s Scout gives me the willies.

I don’t really buy the idea that this doll is feeding Santa information, but, just in case, I try o be extra good whenever I’m in the same room as Santa’s Scout.

(May I clear everyone’s plates?    Why, How thoughtful of you! )

But it probably doesn’t matter anyway, because my older brother, Rodrick, is constantly feeding Santa’s Scout bad information about me.

(I, Greg Geffley, took a Twenty’-Dollar bill out of my mother’s purse.)

Every morning when I make up, Santa’s Scout is in a new place, which I guess is supposed to prove that he travelled to the North Pole overnight. But I’m starting to wonder if it’s really Rodrick who moves him.

( YANK             Scream!!!!)