I never understood the significance of that song until recently. I used to laugh at the thought of Santa being unfaithful to poor old Mrs. Claus.
“HoHoHo, honey, I’m sorry but I’m running a little late.”
Only it’s not about the secret life of Santa, it’s about the parents getting caught. Mommy wasn’t kissing Santa, mommy was kissing daddy dressed as Santa.
When do we get to tell our kids there is no Santa? As parents are we even allowed to?
I found out when I was seven. I slept on the couch so I could catch Santa. I heard the rustling of presents and tree branches, opened one eye, and there was my mom, unsuccessfully sneaking our gifts under the tree. Her cover was blown, but I never said anything for the sake of my little sister...and the presents.
I feel like that was an organic discovery. That’s not the same as having your parents crush your little fantasies of St. Nick. But which is worse, Santa not giving you what you want for Christmas or knowing that your mom is Santa and she can’t get you what you want? But being Santa is hard.
So, Snot-face is now ten and still believes in Santa. Her Christmas list this year is impossible. She is asking for parts to make a working robot. WTF!!!!
I want to let myself off the hook... I wonder how San Francisco feels about putting on a big red suit?
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