This may be the last year Santa visits the McCullough residence.
I’m not entirely certain, but I think our daughter is beginning to see through the veil of the old Santa Claus mystique. I could be wrong, but I’m seeing some signs.
Allow me to explain
Like most kids exposed to more than 30 seconds of Nickelodeon, Cartoon Network or the Disney channel, Zoe has begun to compile a detailed, cross-referenced Christmas list. In the not so distant past, this list was created solely for Santa’s consideration. It’s no longer “….can Santa bring me overpriced hyped toy?” Zoe cuts to the chase “Can you (as in Mom and Dad) get me overpriced hyped toy?” If I were tracking, I could count on one hand — and have digits left over — the number of times Zoe has referenced jolly old St. Nick so far this holiday season.
Even the threat of “…talking to Santa…” when Zoe decides not to clean her room doesn’t have the same amount of leverage as it’s had in seasons past.
I was a year or two younger than Zoe when the skids fell off the Santa sleigh for me. As the story goes, I was somewhere between 4 and 6 one particular Christmas and for some reason my parents opted to hide my yuletide booty in the trunk of the family Ford. Northeast winter weather being what it is, a hard freeze rolled in that Christmas Eve and froze the trunk shut. Rather than waking up to an assortment of Tonka toys, Hot Wheels and GI Joe gear, young Johnny padded downstairs in my best Batman footsie flannels to find my parents frantically looking for an arc welder to extricate my holiday bounty from the icy confines of our frozen LTD sedan. That was pretty much the end of Santa for me.
Zoe’s a pretty bright kid, so it wouldn’t surprise me if she’s gotten wise to the Santa sham. I think if she’s buying into at all, she’s merely doing it to appease her geeky parents.
Our daughter, if she set her mind to it, could find Bin Laden and Hoffa, which is why attempting to hide toys around Casa McCullough has always been a bit of a challenge.
We have a few more weeks before the big day, so I’ll keep you posted on whether or not young Ms. McCullough gets on board the Santa band wagon or if she simply grabs my wallet, eliminates the jolly fat middleman in red and takes matters into her own hands!