"But our chimney is behind that wall, so Santa can't get out of it. So he'll probably hide in the basement with the other monsters until Christmas. Because if he came down the chimney he would get stuck and die. Right Daddy?"
My daughter has been talking a lot about Christmas this morning. She's been teaching her brother all about it. This seems to be based upon a conversation at dinner last night where I was pointing out I would put a carrot on the roof for Santa's reindeer. My daughter looked at me puzzled. Then - like a lot of four year old kids - merged together a variety of things into a confusing blob. She factually stated that carrots are really good for eyesight in the dark so presumably I'm leaving it on the roof for Santa with a glass of milk. I said Santa could have a cookie and milk in our kitchen and the carrot was for the reindeer. At which point she laughed hysterically at my ridiculous suggestion. I could literally see her brain process of, "why would I give my carrots to a reindeer when they can't pick them up to dip them in Ranch dressing?! Sheer madness!!"
So to counter my ridiculous propaganda she's been telling her brother that at Christmas time you get to drink out a snowman's head and - if you're really good - Santa will give you a massive pencil. All of which is true (in our house at least) but isn't really selling him the fun of it all. In a couple of day's we will bust out the Advent calendars. And I might start leaking out some other Christmas stuff too just to build it up. But I'm not decorating for a few weeks. Obviously I'll have to watch National Lampoons and Bad Santa as soon as I can. To get into the Christmas spirit and all that. None of that Charlie Brown crap though. "Oh it's traditional. It's old fashioned." Yes - so is casual racism and polio, and I'm not busting that out for Christmas either. And I have to steer my way through the bad Christmas music as well. That Bruce Springsteen song is abhorrent to the Nth degree. And Dominic The Italian Christmas Donkey is vastly unpleasant for all kinds of reasons. A faux-nationalist Christmas song is just weird.
This year I'm not sure what gifts to get for them either. Last year my daughter modestly asked for some straws and pencils. And that is what she got too. This year she has developed her desires a little more and asked for a toy reindeer that talks and a Newton's Cradle desk toy. When pushed to make a list last week she included a toy snowflake (not a clue), a pogo stick and a hula hoop. My MIL told her other granddaughter to ask for a pony - which is just setting up abject misery for that kids seemingly whine-proof parents. I thought that a hula hoop and a desk toy was somewhat okay considering we have tried very hard to steer her away from angrily demanding this years Big Thing. Which according to an episode of Fox and Friends I caught last week is apparently compulsory unemployment for white people and scarily inappropriate guff about Reagan and fridge magnets about abortion (I'm actually telling the truth here). Actually one thing they really recommended was this actual real item of patriotic clothing.
I like how it is grammatically incorrect and seemingly a warning to parents everywhere at the same time. Who thought was a good thing? Imagine how disappointed that six year old girl would be after opening their, "If Unborn Babies Could Vote They Would Un-Elect Obama" fridge magnet and their, "Fight The War On Christmas With An M1 Garand Rifle" poster, only to get that shitty t-shirt from Grandpa. It doesn't bear thinking about.
Needless to say I won't be getting that stuff. I am happier beyond words that my kids have - so far - not succumbed to the viral marketing blitz that seems to be everywhere telling kids that they definitely need an in door radio controlled helicopter or their lives are so pointless that they should just kill themselves. I may - and this is a very weak may - buy a train set thing I saw at a local consignment type store. It seems weird for me to buy a bit of a train track and a train for my son for half the cost of all the track and trains he could ever enjoy. But then I might be falling into the trap of needing to buy him loads in the hope the sheer hugeness of it all will be impressive. My wife - obviously - told me what she wanted. And then told other people to get it for her. She does that every year. So now I have to think of something else. Seeing as we are notoriously cheap and don't blow loads on crapola we don't really want I'm sure I can pawn off some 25 cent tat I find at the thrift store. She'll never know that's where it came from. Ever!
Actually I was briefly considering having someone make this absurd outfit that I sported during my younger days. It's one of many amazing outfits my parents subjected me to wearing in an effort ot make me look like a gay wandering gypsy.
Calm down ladies - I don't wear stuff like that anymore.
But only because you haven't asked nicely....