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Death to Santa

Dear Santa, Easter Bunny and Tooth Fairy:  I wish you were dead.

 

As a child, I don’t remember ever believing that Santa and the Easter Bunny had such deep pockets.  I distinctly remember my mom saying, “I don’t know if Santa can bring that; it might be too expensive.”

Somehow, the fact that a fat dude lived at the inhospitable North Pole, with toy-making elves and flying reindeer, and yet couldn’t summon up the magic for a new bicycle made total sense to me.

Now, when I tell my daughter that she can’t have something because it’s too expensive, her response is “that’s OK, Santa will bring it.”  And here is the problem:  Santa DOES.  Santa is totally whipped.

Until my child went to a shabby, sub-standard pre-school, she had never seen commercial television.  (God love PBS forever and ever.  Amen.)  So prior to age 4, her requests were “I want a doll house.”

After seeing commercials during an episode of “SpongeBob Squarepants” for the first time at said crappy school, which she no longer attends thankyouverymuch, her big-ticket Christmas item became “I want this Barbie townhouse with three levels and an elevator with a hot tub and a deck.”

I had to Google that description online.  I ran the image by her to make sure that is what Santa was supposed to bring.  Just my luck, the thing was sold out at every retail and online store in the universe, including the manufacturer’s website.

What was I to do?  My elaborate mythology was about to be exposed as a sham – complicated discussions of “To Santa or Not To Santa” will be left for another day, but this was the first time she had ever asked for a specific item.  I had never set Santa up as fallible.  Santa brought what you asked for.  How was I going to explain to a four-year-old that Santa’s elves just ran out of steam before they got to her order?

The most frantic thing I have ever done in my life – and the only time I have ever ordered anything on EBay, was when I spent six hours on the Saturday before Christmas, maniacally shooting exorbitant, desperate bids in the last three seconds on the clock.  I lost the first two, but “won” on the third auction by paying ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS over retail, plus shipping.  Yay me!

My daughter got a $300 Barbie doll house.  There were a few other items, but not many, due to the expense of Barbie’s Taj Mahal and my child happened to casually mention that Santa didn’t bring her much that year.  Aagh!  MUST NOT strangle child.

I still have a sore spot on my tongue from nearly biting it off.

And by the way, who are these assholes on EBay who have possession of Mattel toys that even Mattel doesn’t have?  Are they factory workers who have been stealing them piece by piece in their lunch boxes since Halloween?

After that, I got over my mental disorder, and she got older, and I do now say, “Santa doesn’t bring you everything you want, but you can put it out there and see what happens.”

And one of the great mysteries of my life is when did the Easter Bunny start raiding Toys R Us?  In my day, I got a basket with some candy and books.  Yet my daughter just got an $80 Lego Friends house and that was not all, but just part of a package deal.  Who the hell is this Easter Bunny?  Oh, wait…

And our Tooth Fairy now gives $5 and a small toy per tooth.  When I was a kid I got a quarter.  And one time, my mom forgot so I didn’t even get that.

Wait, I actually know how this one happened.  When she lost the first tooth, the tooth fairy was so excited that she went a little overboard and now, the child has what you call, “expectations”.  Do you know how hard it is to keep coming up with a small toy that can be slipped under her pillow without waking her up?  I look like Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible hanging upside down from her ceiling by a fishing line.

With the last tooth, I fell asleep before performing my fairy duty, and I literally SHOT awake at 5 a.m., threw myself out of bed and hastily shoved everything under her pillow.  It was at that very moment, that in my head, I was shouting “Death to them All”.

In truth, I dread the day the magic dies for her.  I have reservations about perpetuating the lies, but these experiences were some of the happiest memories of my childhood, and I could not imagine depriving her of that.  Hopefully, she will forgive me when she finds out.  At least when all the mythological creatures finally rest in peace, she will know how much I loved her.  And that I am clinically insane.

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About reneadijab

Renea Dijab

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2 Comments on “Death to Santa”

  1. tammyoberhausen Says:

    Hint from a forgetful tooth fairy: If your child comes to you some morning and says sadly, “My tooth is still there; the tooth fairy didn’t bring me anything,” just say, “Really? Let me go look!” Grab your bill and fold it into a sliver to fit between your fingers. Then slide it under the pillow as you lift the pillow with the other hand and say, “Oh! There it is! It was just folded up really small.” Child: “But why didn’t she take the tooth?” Parent: “I guess she met her tooth quota this month and didn’t need it.” This works better if the bill in question is more than a five.

    Reply

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