This Christmas was the first Christmas where my children were aware of the whole “Santa brings the toys” phenomenon. If I am being honest, it may have been lost on them, were it not for my campaign to make Santa a key player this holiday season. I played Christmas specials a few times a week, told them that Santa’s bringing toys and pointed him out to them as we passed every 5 foot inflatable lawn Santa.
Little by little, it began to sink in and they seemed to understand that Santa was coming to our home. If you asked them “who was coming,” they’d chirp, “Santa!” Follow up with “what does Santa bring?” and they’d shout out “toys,” like anxious contestants on a game show.
I was excited. As a mom, I want them to Believe. I want them to believe in possibilities, in magical and exciting things. I was totally diggin’ it…or so I thought.
I thought I was fine with the idea that Santa got all the credit, and my husband and I were saddled with the assembly and receipts. Really, it’s the natural order of things where Santa’s concerned. Like my father before me applying sticker after sticker on my three foot Barbie Dream Camper– my dream, but a total nightmare for my Dad.
I thought I was fine with the Santa situation. My analytic mind says I’ve got little aggression toward Santa. Here’s why.
As I was applying sticker after sticker on our kids’ pretend kitchen, my son handed me a box of train tracks he had opened on Christmas morning. He was pointing to a bridge that was additional, and not included, a toy company practice which is a little cruel for a toddler if you ask me. Is he really out of line to expect that if something’s on the box, it would have been in the box? But I digress…
He kept pointing to the suggested bridge on the box, and without even thinking, I threw Santa under the bus.
“Sorry sweetie, we don’t have that bridge…Santa didn’t bring it.” The blaming words were out there and I couldn’t take them back. What had that jolly man done to me?
I guess if there’s a naughty list, my name would be toward the top.