At the place I call home, it is not Santa who brings the Christmas presents. That is Christkind's—Christ Child's—job.
Consequently, we send wish lists not to Santa but to Christkind. The list is carefully laid out in a letter placed on a window sill.
Naturally, this has to happen just when you leave home so that nobody is disturbing Christkind as it picks up all the letters, flying from house to house through the snowy air.
Or so the story goes.
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