Every time Christmas rolls around I wonder if I should have the talk with my children to tell them who their real Santa is. I mean, the wrong man has been getting the credit for being their benefactor for far to long. I’d like a little of that credit, too. All of those late Christmas Eve nights putting kitchens and train sets together. All of those fights that broke out between me and their dad at 2am when we had too much eggnog and brandy, and now we must put a whole village together and my “santa’s helper” refuses to read the directions. All those mornings after when those credit card bills are to the ceiling. Yes, I feel like maybe they should be hit with the harsh reality that there is no Rudolf leading Santa’s fat ass around on a one horse open sleigh.
No! It’s just been me and your father all of these years, who never get a thank you, barely even a kiss as they wake us up and crawl over us to get under the tree at 6 am on Christmas morning. Are we doing are kids a disservice in the end if they really believe in this fairy tale? Do we run the risk of being called liars by our children when they find out the foolishness we’ve been perpetrating all these years?
I don’t know, but I’m very close to accidentally setting the alarm and having them wake up in the middle of the set up and killing the big reveal. Then I will finally get the respect and gratitude I deserve. I feel like this will be best for the whole human race if we just get it over with and expose this hoax once and for all. Or am I just a scrooge and the only parent having these naughty thoughts?