Priceless Holiday Memories
As hectic as things get around this time, I try to remind myself that — while the holiday is by no means all about the kids — they certainly have a role to play.
Between running off to another out-of-town shoot and staying late to plug away at editing the latest Tohubohu project, I didn’t get home until around the girls’ bedtime last night. I was actually surprised to find them still awake, but it appears that “Santa Claus” was touring around the neighborhood — on the back of a fire engine, no less — and the girls had stayed up late in the desperate hope that he’d drive down our street.
Alas, they were destined for disappointment; the disadvantage of living on an unaffiliated cul-de-sac.
As I was tucking my youngest into bed, she told me about how they’d stayed up until the absolute last minute, and while she understood that Santa was probably just too busy to drive by, she had a sneaking suspicion as to the real reason: She and the little girl next door were being too “goofy,” and Santa was mad.
I gave her a big hug and reassured her that being a little too “goofy” would never be reason enough for Santa to pass her by.
I’m probably looking forward to Christmas morning more than she is.
2 Comments:
See - that's why I can't have kids. I'm not the "nurturing" type.
I would have said, "Yeah. I passed Santa on the way in and he also said he heard that thing you said last week, and even though you didn't think anyone would ever find out, Santa says he knows. And that's why he's not coming by. He's also giving your toys to a little kid in Cambodia. Sweet dreams, sweetie"
This is from the child who's father told her she was found under a rock, she had the ability to walk through walls if she concentrated hard and ran fast enough, and when she was eight and they had moved to a new home less than a mile from the old one, that Santa probably wouldn't be able to find them unless they stood on the roof and flagged him down. Imagine my deep disappointment when mom would not let me climb on the roof - and yet Santa came! My dad was not cut out to be a father, yet he stuck around and made sure we'd always be just a little off, I think just so he could relive the holidays through us.
Enjoy your kids, Bill. They seem to make the holidays not as crappy.
Yeah, I'm enjoying them. And that's the key -- I love having kids, and I love being a father. But I'd be an idiot -- not to mention deliberately ignoring the evidence of reality -- if I thought this was for everyone.
I'll admit to getting a bit sappy at times, but sit tight. I'll be back to my usual, bitter self before long.
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