My Christmas

I’ve held off on the Picture with Santa. Little Man is not fond of strangers. While he doesn’t always attempt to burrow into me, he is still painfully shy around strangers. It has put a slight damper on trying to teach him what to do if we should ever become separated in public but we’ll get there. So for now I keep a hand on him at all times and if that isn’t possible, he knows he must not leave my line of sight. Again, his fear of strangers comes in handy as he doesn’t stray from my side when in public.


I was never overly fond of Santa in person as a child either. I preferred the idea of Santa and his elves living the good life in the North Pole making toys, drinking cider and eating candy canes all day long. That was the life as far as I was concerned and I thought it was beyond cool that he didn’t have to get in a car and sit in traffic. He had a cool sled and flying reindeer. Each Christmas Eve I would sneak out of bed and run to the window to catch a glimpse of him and then one year… there it was; a tiny red light off in the distance. RUDOLPH! I was so excited my whole family came running. OOPS! Busted! I didn’t care. I saw Rudolph! He was right there up in the sky. My favorite reindeer of all was there. Santa was coming.

Mom reminded me that Santa would not come to our house until I was asleep and he would know if I wasn’t so I crawled back into bed and tried oh so hard to fall asleep but my heart was racing and all I could think of was I finally had my chance to play with Rudolph. Oh the fun we would have. He was going to be my new best friend. I did eventually fall asleep so Santa was able to make his visit.

It wasn’t until years later when my bedtime moved further out that I realized the only visible part of an airplane at night was the red light. That made me think and then I remembered the look on my parents’ and siblings’ faces and was finally able to judge the look with an adult’s eye. Give them credit for keeping a straight face as I have not yet fully mastered that one yet.

Little Man is starting to show signs of excitement for Santa. He shrieked with glee at the mall last weekend when he saw him from a distance. Frosty, The Grinch and The Night Before Christmas are fast becoming favorite reads. The magic is starting to take root.

Along with the magic comes a parent’s favorite threat. Santa only delivers toys to good little boys and girls. We’ve used that one a lot of late; perhaps a little too much. I awoke last night a little before 1 AM to Little Man crying pretty hard. I rush into his room to find him half asleep, tears streaming down his face rocking in bed. I gather him into my lap and ask what’s wrong.

“My Christmas! Don’t take my Christmas!”

I almost started crying with him except I was stifling laughter. I tried to get out of him who was taking his Christmas but he was too upset and still half asleep so I gave into my guilt and brought him into our bed. My guilt was short-lived. I was talking to John on my drive to the office this morning and I told him we may want to back off that threat a little bit. He was very nice in pointing out that I had already used it at least once first thing this morning.

Scar #2 Little Man will be blaming me for.