Here's the journaling:

I don’t remember how old I was, but suffice it to say, it was a long time ago in the small northern Nevada town where I grew up. Each Christmas Santa would come to town to listen to the young children’s heartfelt desires. I was one of those children. He sat outside in the cold in front of a local hotel/casino. Our only radio station hid a microphone in his beard and broadcast each child’s Christmas wishes.
During that long ago time, my parents owned a photography studio - the only one in town. It was back before color photos existed. My mother hand tinted many portraits, and since Christmas was a very busy season for them, she often spent very long hours at the studio painting, sometimes spending the night there. The year of this story I visited her at the studio before my father took me to see Santa Claus. My mother asked me to be sure to ask for something special for her, too. She told me to ask Santa to bring her red panties with black lace trim. When it was finally my turn to sit on Santa’s knee, I’m sure I asked for something special for myself, though I cannot remember what it might have been. However, before I crawled down, I remembered to share my mother’s special wish with Santa -- and with the entire town through the radio broadcast.
As you can imagine, many of the townspeople found that quite funny, and they teased my mother for some time. My mother never asked me to convey her special Christmas wishes to Santa again. I suppose she learned how literal a child can be.