When Your Kid is More Magical Than You

If you've read Spending the Holidays with People I Want to Punch in the Throat then you know that I accidentally ruined Santa for Gomer a few years ago when he was in fourth grade. It's a long story and you should probably read it, but basically it boils down to I thought he knew, but he didn't know and I blew it.

Cut to now where Adolpha is in fourth grade and showing some definite signs that she no longer believes. HOWEVER, since this is the last child I have to screw up, I refuse to be the one who says, "Santa isn't real." If she's thirty years old and she comes to my house on Christmas Eve hoping for a Dustbuster, I'll give her one. Y'know?

She's been throwing me some serious signs this year that she doesn't believe or that I'm at least being tested. For instance, she refuses to tell me what she's asked Santa for.



"It's between us," she said. At first I was kind of panicked, because how could I get her the Santa gift if I didn't know what she asked for? Then I would be the one who ruined it. So I said, "That's cool, but just know that Santa is kind of hard of hearing and we all know the mall Santa isn't real and he's the one who has to tell the real Santa and if real Santa doesn't have his hearing aids in when mall Santa relays your message, then you might end up with a sketch pad." Yeah, that's where I'm at right now. I'm creating elaborate, dumb lies so that I can continue to lie to my child about a magical old man who creeps around our house at night while we sleep. What is wrong with me??!!!

The Hubs, of course, is like, "TELL HER and let's be done with this nonsense!" but he's no fun. He's like the love child of Scrooge McDuck and The Grinch. I had to go and buy my own Christmas gifts this year, because after fourteen years of marriage, I've finally learned that if I want something, I need to get it myself. Thanks for the entire Downton Abbey series, the gel pens, the insulated tumblers, and the warm snuggly wrap thingy, Hubs. How did you know!?

So if Adolpha doesn't know yet, she'll definitely know on Christmas morning when she doesn't get the Barbie Dream House (Gomer got it out of her and told me, but my budget is blown, there might be enough money left for a Skipper doll, but that's it). I've come to terms with the fact that this is probably the last year we'll have of doing what little magic I do and it's kind of sad. 

But then this morning, I awoke to Adolpha standing over me with a piece of paper. "Mommy, look!" she exclaimed. "What is this?" I could tell by her over-acting that something was afoot. I took the paper. It wasn't handwriting that I knew. It said:

Grapes

Snappers

Chocolater

Holo Pretzels

Mini PB Cups Melted w/Pudding
(spelling errors included)

"What's chocolater?" I asked.

Adolpha opened her eyes wide. "I think that's Elf-speak for chocolate bars. I think this is a shopping list from the Elves! They want you buy this stuff at the store, Mom!"

"What?" 

"Yeah, I found this list sitting next to the elves -- who haven't moved since Monday, by the way. It's not my handwriting or Gomer's or yours or dad's. It's the elves! They want chocolate bars and Snappers. LOTS of Snappers. You'd better do what the elves say, Mom. We don't want to make Santa mad and not have him come, right?"

"Make him mad?"

"Yeah, remember the elves do Santa's business. You said they're always watching and reporting back on bad behavior. This list probably came directly from him and ignoring it would be naughty. It would be terrible if Christmas was ruined because you didn't buy Snappers."

And there it was. My child not only doesn't believe anymore, but now she was punking me. I've always known that Adolpha would grow up to be an overachiever, I just had no idea how good she'd be at it. But I will have the last laugh. Someday she'll invite me to her home on Christmas Eve and when the house is asleep, I'll trash her kitchen and leave some Snappers behind and say the elf did it. We'll see how funny she thinks it is then.

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