It’s a good thing the world didn’t end, because I would be charged with a)failure to teach said child in all things religious and b)strangling a fat and jolly man.
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Jolly ol' St. Nicholas
in Which the Little One Writes a Letter.
On the Eve of the day in which our world was to end, my three-year old quite obliviously wrote a letter to Santa Claus. She chose the letter A. And then she drew a balloon and colored it black. On the outside of the envelope she instructed me in very fine detail to tell Santa that she wanted two toys. No more, no less. That night, she gave thanks for Santa and his reindeer. Also, thank you that I am going to get two toys. At one point in time, Eva had known that this holiday was about Jesus, but then she saw Santa in the mall. I’m pretty sure that he’s the one who whispered the idea of two toys in her ear. And now it must come to pass. There are no outs on this one because she truly believed him. Two gifts—from Santa, because he never lies….
Meanwhile, I face the cruelest of all facts: I spent good time and money buying my daughter the best of all gifts (exact number: two). I had visions of being the coolest mom ever as Eva opened her princess stuff—forget visions of sugar plums. We don’t have a ton of money for this kind of thing. Now the parents are stuck with giving a tutu (her third), a hand-me-down Tinkerbell purse, and a toothbrush. All these were supposed to be stocking stuffers (thanks for the full stocking, Santa)! For the good stuff—scratch that—all the stuff I have to give credit to the dubious Kris Kringle, alias St. Nick. Unbelievable.