I was standing in line at the grocery store the other day and this annoying little hairball of a child was doing jumping jacks next to me and going “MOMMY. MOMMY. MOMMY. IS SANTA CLAUS REAL?” See…this is the reason I could never be a teacher. It took every ounce of strength in my body to not whip around and look this grimy little weasel in the face and in the deepest, most hoarse voice possible, be all “NO. AND THE EASTER BUNNY IS FAKE TOO!!!!” That would totally screw with him. Can we say THERPAY!
Which brings me to my newest dilemma….do I lie to my own child about Santa? Cardin is one now and there is no way she understands the concept of a lie. Listen Lady, she doesn’t yet understand the concept of “mommy needs to pee so I’m going to walk into the bathroom and I’ll be back in two minutes and I haven’t left you forever so you don’t need to cry like the whole world has just exploded in your face”.
Do I continue the cycle of lies that I was fed in my own childhood? I’m looking straight at you, MOM. See…as a child, I was beat and placed naked, in a room with only a thin blanket on the floor for comfort and my parents lied to me and told me Santa was real. AND GOD, I CAN’T WAIT TO HEAR THE RAMPAGE OVER THIS STATEMENT.
I vowed when I was pregnant that I would never lie to my own children about Santa and cause irrational fear and anxiety in their lives. And I scarified a chicken in a ceremonial event to proclaim that I would NEVER put them through the traumatic experience of forcing them onto Santa’s lap at the mall. (if that’s not a lesson in creepy, then I don’t know what is). LISTEN LADY, HAVEN’T I PASSED ON ENOUGH NEUROSES? The cycle has to stop somewhere.
But now that Cardin is here and Christmas is upon us, it seems inevitable that Santa will be bringing her the presents. I’ll be sure that when I whisper sweet nothings into my little one’s ear on Christmas Eve it will be to the tune of “GRANDMA SITS ON A THRONE OF LIES!”