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.
The Pilver 
OMG! Max looks so big! Andyes, Santa needed a better top than that.
I’d rather Santa was drunk with a coat on than sober with that rediculous sweater.
The sweater catches the eye for sure (like a plastic 1980s Christmas tablecloth), but I hope I’m not just seeing things when I write that this particular Santa has the largest hands of anyone who has ever lived. His longest digits are roughly the length of Max’s head!
Can’t wait to see my little boy! Tell him Santa talks to Grandma and Grandpa too. Go ahead. Add to the lies.
Keywork- I always thought drunk santas were the way things are. This guy apparently works 12 hours daily every day through the holidays so that little kids may have their picture taken with the same Santa every year.
Matt- I did not notice that before, but now I am totally aware that those are freak of nature hands.
Mom- You only say that because of the lies Dad fed me. If what he said was true Santa is my great grandpa and my dad is a pirate.
no, Kristiane, (I would like to know how that is pronounced, if you can find the time to do the phonetics for me) that’s the way things were. I pity my son that he will never know the correlation between booze and Christmas.
kris-tea-ah-nah, like open up and say ahhh, not ahh! a mouse!
thanks for clearing that up.
If you don’t give me one of these pictures… well, I don’t even want to tell you what I’ll do. Max is so big! He’s like a real little guy now instead of a toddle-boy.
A Santa with no coat is much better than the “Santa” I had to visit, who wasn’t wearing pants.
Stupid creepy Uncle Jeff.