Christmas is right around the corner, and (at my house at least) this means that the kids are getting nervous. It’s not shocking to think that they would experience a bit of holiday anxiety — Santa is supposed to be constantly watching and evaluating their performances. Last week, J. wrote not one but TWO letters to Santa Claus (which were duly posted to “The North Pole”). In the first, he detailed his Christmas wish list. He wanted simple, inexpensive toys, and asked the Claus humbly for them. The kid requested a “flashlight of my very own.” I don’t think that’s too much for the gigantic imaginary lobster-man to deliver. The second letter, however, was a bit more grim. In it, J. asked Santa what the big man thought of J.’s relative “badness” throughout the year. It went something like, “Dear Santa, do you think I been bad? Because I really been pretty good.” As a certifiably terrible person and mean old Auntie, I couldn’t help but exploit the child’s fear of getting nothing for Christmas. I forged a response from Santa back to J. It “magically” appeared on the Christmas tree this afternoon. Here it is:
J. took this letter with both aplomb and amazement. He thought that Santa putting him on the “MAYBE” list was funny, but you could see the fear in his eyes. I think I’ll keep writing to him.