I’ve been eating my weight in candy cane cookies and want to be in denial.
Instead, I feel compelled to plumb the labyrinthine depths to which our children will sink to use Santa against us.
Henry and I came home from a date tonight and this is the letter, written in deceptively charming childish scrawl, that ambushed me from my desk:
“Dear Santa — Mommy says I am not going to get a video camera under the tree. I think she means she is not going to get me one, but that is what you are here for.
“Mom says I have to use my Itouch. My Itouch is okay, but it is not the same. I have been hoping for a video camera for a long time.
“About three months ago, Mommy just jumped on me and said I wasn’t getting one. It was a surprise and it hurt my feelings.
“But then I realized there was a chance to get one. It was you. I know there are a lot of things on my list and I am not going to get them all, but one thing I want really badly is the Bloggie touch video camera. Love, …”
I won’t reveal the writer of this letter.
(And Mom, Dad and Second Mom DO NOT mention this! The children still don’t read my blog as it is a wee bit bawdy).
I, as you may have ascertained, am the villainous “mommy” who pounces on innocent children to tell them they can’t have stuff.
Is it indelicate of me to mention that this child’s Christmas List wiped out half the Amazon forest for the paper it was writ upon?
Am I wearing the Martyr’s Mantel when I say I spent half my lifetime just collating and filing this list? And that half of our annual salary would’ve been needed in order to purchase all the items on this list?
My knee jerk was to wake said child up and ask her if she wanted me to return her Darth Vader and Obi Wan Kenobi FX light sabers (hidden in the garage so this Santa ruse can continue) in order to buy the Froggie Bloggie Fricka-mafrack?
Or ask if I should just donate my breasts to medicine in order to purloin it for her? … because as we both know I AM FRIGGIN’ SANTA!
(Henry is Mrs. Claus as he just provides the dough. I shop, I wrap, I suffffeeeerrrrr!!)
But instead of shaking my child awake and reminding her of the kids in the DEVELOPING WORLD who would just like to eat every day, I am going to tell her I’ve already sent her list to Santa and that she MAY have the Bloggie Video camera, but she’ll have to earn it herself.
Used it is $85.
I will write out a list of all the things she can do in order to earn the money to buy the camera. I suspect this won’t be a popular suggestion.
But if I see any disappointment on Christmas morning, I’m outing Santa! I am feeling very Grinchy, as you can see (and there is just the smallest little part of me that worries I am not modeling good purchasing habits – hmmm – we’ll save that for my Monday Sins).
Here is my question … how do you deal with the Santa con? When kids are at that age where they know it’s you and they know you know they know it’s you, but they play upon your desire to stretch out the magical part of childhood just a little bit longer.
11 thoughts on “The Santa Con”
Well, you could always tell her she didn’t get it because Santa didn’t think she was a good enough girl. In my mom and dad’s hometown during the Christmas parade, Santa’s sidekick would grab one of the kids watching and put him in a sack and take him away (representing what happened to naughty children). The Dutch Santa leaves sticks instead of coal for bad boys and girls so their parent can give them a swat.
But seriously… my kids are in high school and we still play the Santa game. All the clothes and underwear are signed from boring Mrs. Clothes so they know not to be excited when they open it. The good stuff is from Santa.
I prefer Mrs. Clothes!
My two teenage boys and adult child still try to convience me that there’s a Santa even though we’ve never had a traditional American Christmas celebration. It’s a little too late to start now <–that's how I deal with the con.
I know I’ll be sad when they’re over Santa. I’m a little less Grinchy now that my daughter asked for the list of work she can do to earn the video camera. Do you think asking a 9-year old to change the oil in the minivan is too much?
I remember when Santa brought me my very own television for my room.
And I blurted out, “Uh. Do what? It’s ONLY black and white??”
What a jackass.
I gotta admit though…that letter was gooood. Precisely laid right where it was certain to be found.
You have a professional on your hands.
I’m her bitch that’s for sure. Whenever I try to claim my liberty she does something that melts my heart and I’m hers again. I’m assuming this will be a lifelong malady.
Wily little creatures they are. I used to write the girls’ names on the presents from Santa with my left hand. I also used different wrapping paper (which my husband thought was crazy). None of it mattered. They knew the truth. But somehow still believed for a long time. Or maybe they were just playing me…
We are definitely in Middle Earth with the Santa thing. Can’t give it up because then what fun would Christmas be. I’m Bah-fangooled.
Wait!! You mean there’s no Santa??
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