Life was not all bad back in the long ago days of raising children. The one part I took advantage of was when they finally got Santa on radar. The kids were always excited on Christmas Eve because they knew all they had to do was go to sleep and Santa would pop in and leave them presents. Now I kind of resented the fact that I had busted my ass to buy presents and some fat fart was getting all the credit. So I devised a way to actually turn the table so I could get a little credit for myself.
When the weather man would come on and show the tiny Santa and his tinier reindeer, they were inevitably clear up in Montana or somewhere just as distant. I would carefully explain to the kids that they should go ahead and go to bed and I would keep watch and if they happened to notice I was gone it was probably because I had made arrangements to meet him in Nebraska or some where because no way in hell was I going to not let them have Christmas and there would be presents under the tree from that rascal or by God I would know the reason why. So they went to bed and slept the sleep of children who could always depend on mother.
Now in all likely hood, had they awoken and gone to check under the tree and found me missing, I was probably at the bar just down the street for a quick beer or at the liquor store at the other corner replenishing my "will to live." But either way, there was always a pile under the tree for each of them and I had the satisfaction of knowing there were 5 little kids who loved me and were grateful that I had stayed up all night to make sure Santa came through for them! I was a damn good liar back in those days, but now I am not so good at it.
But then I really don't need to do it any more! I may stay up tomorrow night just to see where Santa is and relive the days when a hairy old man in a red suit was something I really wanted to see. I have my brother Jake to thank for ripping my belief in Santa to shreds. I in turn twisted the knife in my sister Donna, she in Mary, and when the veil fell from the eyes of Dorothy our childhood was over and we transitioned into a family who celebrated Christmas for the birth of the Christ Child.
Everyone except my father, who was an atheist.
When the weather man would come on and show the tiny Santa and his tinier reindeer, they were inevitably clear up in Montana or somewhere just as distant. I would carefully explain to the kids that they should go ahead and go to bed and I would keep watch and if they happened to notice I was gone it was probably because I had made arrangements to meet him in Nebraska or some where because no way in hell was I going to not let them have Christmas and there would be presents under the tree from that rascal or by God I would know the reason why. So they went to bed and slept the sleep of children who could always depend on mother.
Now in all likely hood, had they awoken and gone to check under the tree and found me missing, I was probably at the bar just down the street for a quick beer or at the liquor store at the other corner replenishing my "will to live." But either way, there was always a pile under the tree for each of them and I had the satisfaction of knowing there were 5 little kids who loved me and were grateful that I had stayed up all night to make sure Santa came through for them! I was a damn good liar back in those days, but now I am not so good at it.
But then I really don't need to do it any more! I may stay up tomorrow night just to see where Santa is and relive the days when a hairy old man in a red suit was something I really wanted to see. I have my brother Jake to thank for ripping my belief in Santa to shreds. I in turn twisted the knife in my sister Donna, she in Mary, and when the veil fell from the eyes of Dorothy our childhood was over and we transitioned into a family who celebrated Christmas for the birth of the Christ Child.
Everyone except my father, who was an atheist.
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