Santa the Terrible

It's amazing the things you buy into just to get your kids to behave a little better -- and there is no better example than our American Santa. As many parents of young children, Dave and I decided our little brood had to follow the grand old tradition of taking your child to a public mall, thrusting them on the lap of a total stranger, and taking their picture. Of course, we thought this would be great. The kids would enjoy it, we'd get a great picture for the memory books. We were definitely looking at Santa through rosy glasses.

We were as goofy as any parent there. "Look! there's Santa honey. He's very nice and brings you presents when you're a good girl." Bam, right there, setting her up for a lifetime of illusion. Ah, she'll be ok right? Sure she'll doubt our honesty when she finds out Santa's just a temp holiday worker who spends his summers in bars and construction sites instead of the elf-filled north pole. But that's all a part of growing up. We'll spend the first 7-11 years building up her illusions in order to trick her into behaving how we want her to, she'll spend a good 10 years or so resenting us for it, but then, eventually, she may have her own kids and take them to the mall Santa for a picture too.

As you may have guessed, Santa didn't go so well. Owen did fine. After all, he wouldn't realize the difference between Mom, Santa or the Easter Bunny holding him. As long as he's fed and dry, he's pretty much happy to be held. Rhianna, on the other hand, was terrified. You'd have thought we were about to put her on hot coals -- although in all honesty, I'm fairly confident that she would have willingly climbed into a lit fireplace before volunteering to get on Santa's lap. As soon as she saw him, she clutched on to the nearest parent for dear life. She let out a cry that was pure terror and the dominoes began to fall. First comes Rhianna's cry, then the tears, then the next child in line starts to cry and the cry spreads down the line of children innocently playing along with Mom and Dad's attempts at a cute holiday picture. The cry was a communication purely on a children's level. It was the universal language that seemed to say "Don't be fooled! Santa's no jolly old saint. He's got a fake beard and a rented suit. It's lies I tell you, LIES!"

So... maybe next year she'll buy the Santa line and someone else's kid will be the black sheep. Oh well, I guess we saved eight bucks for not having to buy a photo.