I made a pact with myself to write each day this month. That was dumb. Tonight I met my extended family for dinner twenty miles away. We ate (too much) and I just got home. On the way to the restaurant we were running early and decided to stop off at the mall to get the annual photo with Santa. My son is six, so his belief in Santa is conditional to the swarm of questions he fires at me. Here’s a sampling of what I have to combat:
Max:How does Santa Know when I am naughty?
Me: He has hidden cameras installed all over the world
This he believes fully and I have told him that most light fixtures have hidden cameras in them. One day last year he did something that was “naughty” and he looked up at the camera and said in a terrified voice, “Did you see that?” Try keeping a stoic face and punish a kid after that, I could not.
Max: Phil says Santa isn’t real
Me: Does Phil know about the hidden cameras?
Max: Yeah cause I told him.
Ouch, I am turning my son into a liar.
Max: Phil says you parents wrap presents and just say they are from Santa
Me: I don’t have enough money to buy presents so if there are any this year you can bet they are from Santa, so you’d better be good this year.
OK, I did not say that. I am saving it for when he hiding in the clothes rack at the mall and I have been running around to security asking for them to page everyone in the mall to look for a little boy with a sassy mouth.
I am kidding. Please do not call child protection services. Anyways. Santa, tonight, was improperly dressed. I want my $19.42 for that one photo back.