I don’t have a whole lot of cute Xmas pictures to share of my children’s delight at Santa’s efforts, or the joy of opening the most amazing toys ever. Don’t get me wrong: Santa did his best, and the gifts were pretty damn sweet. But one of my children was possessed by the spirit of Francis from Pee Wee’s Big Adventure. You know, the spoiled bully who constantly acted like an asshole.
I suppose it started several weeks ago when we took the kids to that Xmas carnival with the cool rides and Santa. The Santa visit was great (she asked for a Fur Real puppy thing that’s seriously creepy) and the rides were a hit. On the way out, however, she saw one of those stands they set up at all of these types of things which sells items for about 3,000% of what they’re actually worth, given that they’re made in a far-off country with zero regard for VOC emissions or the lead content in paint. There was something there – a “squeaky puppy-” that caught her eye. She immediately began whining for it which we shut down. We had just take the kid to see Santa and ride rides. She was about to get a whole slew of new toys. Surely the “squeaky puppy” wasn’t that important.
I’ll be damned if “squeaky puppy” didn’t stick in her melon. She added it to the Dear Santa letter she wrote. She also asked for some Shopkins and a Fur Real creepy puppy thing – oh, and some Legos for Felix. Santa hoped that in the magic of Xmas morn, “squeaky puppy” would be forgotten in favor of the Fur Real creepy puppy thing and the hula hoop and the Wonder Woman doll and the bulging stocking full of candy and Shopkins and all other manner of delightful girly things.
Xmas morning came. The kids were up early (6:15) yet luxuriously late compared to the past 6 years. Felix was up first, and I managed to send him to wake his sister before he saw too much. I was incredibly excited because Will actually got up. Y’all don’t understand. Will is about as much of a morning person as Count Dracula. He’s never up to see the Santa portion of Xmas. Hell, last year I slept on the couch so I wouldn’t miss it. This year, he rushed out and had his iPhone ready to video the happy moment when Stella emerged. This was going to be storybook, a Xmas to remember. I could feel it.
She immediately made the ugliest, most wretched face a kid can make who isn’t actively throwing up. Where was “squeaky puppy?” She had asked for “squeaky puppy!” In the meantime, she was almost sitting on Fur Real creepy puppy thing. Will looked at me in bewilderment, stopped videoing, and said “I’m deleting this. And next year I’m sleeping in.” I couldn’t argue with that. And y’all, it just got worse.
I really do try to raise my kids right – to have manners, be polite, be kind, and not act like assholes. Usually people comment at how well-mannered they are in public. Felix was fabulous. As a matter of fact, he could have unwrapped a box of post-it notes and been ecstatic. Case in point, Xmas eve we always let them open one wrapped gift. Crispi had gotten Stella one of those wonderful personalized books that’s been making the rounds on Facebook, “The Girl Who Lost Her Name.” It’s the cutest thing. Crispi, understandably wanted Stella to open that without the competition and hubbub of other toys. It was a hit. I chose for Felix one of the boxes from my dad – a Dinotrux toy, I thought. It was shoes. I was braced for a huge tantrum. Instead, Felix put them on, ran through the house in his “new big boy fast shoes,” and I damn near couldn’t get them off his feet at bedtime.
I have no idea what happened to my daughter. She whined and moaned through gift opening. It got so horrible that we sent her to her room to think about her ungrateful behavior, and yes, we’ve talked about how so many kids don’t get nice Xmases or have enough to eat; we donated a nice bag of new toys to Toys for Tots. I threatened to take the rest of her wrapped gifts and send them back to Amazon. I also said Santa had a rule that if kids acted like turds about what he left them that he would come back the next night and take them back.
She sniveled the rest of the day. Just yesterday, she was griping that Santa only brought her one thing she had asked for. What an asshole.
So y’all please tell me: has this ever happened to you? Have your children ever been possessed by the Ghost of Xmas Ass? What did you do about it?