I sort of remember when I stopped believing in Santa. I was older than I probably should've been (hey, some of us LIKE believing in things) but still in early grade school. It was 4:00 AM, Christmas morning and I heard a noise in the living room. I opened my door as slowly and quietly as I could and peeked down the hallway. The Christmas tree was lit with bubble lights (because we were awesome) and I could just make out my mother putting bits o' wonderful in our stockings.
Deflated. So it's true. Well, I suppose it makes sense. "From Santa" always looked like Mom's handwriting.
Re-inflated. But I still get presents!
And went back to bed until probably around 6:00 AM. I'm sorry, parents.
the Waif and I were horrible snoopers too. Around the first week of December, we'd start to hit all the places we could conceive of hidden gifts. Once they were wrapped and placed under the tree...we lifted, molested, shook and held to the light any and everything with our names on it. What brats.
One year, I got this giant plastic piggy bank in the shape of a Coca-Cola bottle (it's like she knew it was going to run my life one day) that was about as tall as my hip. When wrapped, it proved to be my greatest guessing challenge. I did everything but unwrap it. I think I even put a few fingers in the paper opening to see what I could feel. Didn't do any good, I couldn't figure the fucking thing out. Though I doubt she'd admit it, I still feel today (not too long after that piggy bank has had to be officially retired...which is ok because it had a shitty interest rate) that she got me that bank to punish me for present snooping. Game well played, madam. Well played, indeed.
The lesson here, children, is that your snooping abilities are only as good as the parents you're up against. And she could've taught classes.
Now go find the pickle.
12 keep(s) me blogging:
this post made me laugh like, 47 times.
my sister got that same bank for her 3rd bday and she flipped out when she opened it, my mum asked "what is it???" (for the sake of the video viewers at home, i'm sure) and my sister, mid excitement, stops, looks at my uncle who gave it to her, and goes "uncle mike, what is it?" he tells her its a bank and she went back to flippng out.
she was hilarious. the mere sight of this coca cola bank was enough, no matter what it was. lol
anyway, your post was funny.
Had I been your nanny you would STILL believe in Santa. I would have gone to any lengths to preserve the illusion. I would have also terrified you with ghost stories, and left decoys and booby traps around the house for you to find. Man, you girls would have found out what wily means.
My parents never really cared if I looked at my presents beforehand. I was going to be the one with nothing to open on xmas morning.
Eventually they even stopped wrapping stuff, just leaving it in the bag they got from the store. Most of my wishlist items became various electronics, so the Circuit City bags never spoiled anything.
I have to wrap things in other boxes so their surprise won't be ruined when Kate rips the paper off before Christmas. I've already had to re-wrap & re-tag a few presents. One week to go...
The kids still believe in Santa. Kind of. Lauren asks me every couple of months and I say, "do you believe in Santa?" and she says, "yes" and I say "well?" and she leaves it alone. Good story, huh?
Hayden (who can't read) just peeked over my shoulder while I was reading your post and saw the pickle. He ran to the tree and brought me ours. :)
Wow, was this one about little ol' me? I really hate it when I'm the reason you stop believing in something. But I can't believe you said nothing about the bells, the door slamming and the reassurances that you had only just missed Mr. Claus when you came tearing out into the kitchen. Irregardless, I already have the pickle prize and you'll never find that either!
We marveled that Santa Claus and our mother shared penmanshıp habıts too (oh crap, I'm in Turkish again -- hope this doesn't mean anything nasty: şuığü). I also wondered how Santa managed to grab up the very same Christmas paper I'd seen in our hallway and expertly wrap our gifts. But then we were also told that being dipped in water would give us eternal life, so most of the time we just shrugged and played along.
My mother would always take advantage of the after-Christmas sales and buy the NEXT years gifts. I could NEVER find where she had them hidden all year. But sure enough, there they would be under the tree... a year later. And they were always really cool toys; age appropriate, and close enough to that narrow margin of safety to be fun. My Mom really knew how to stealth Christmas.
My Dad, on the other hand, always left a Bourbon out for Santa... apparently it is legal for Santa to drink-and-sleigh as the glass was always gone come Christmas morning. Dad always slept in late.
I never believed in Santa. Not even for an instant! Oh, no...Im too clever for that, yes indeed.
macoosh - no fibbing! there's not even 47 words in this thing.
goranas - you can be my nanny now if you want to be.
woozie - boo. you need to make things right by OVER wrapping for your own kids.
sarah - i dare you to wrap it all in foil.
(i love hayden)
mom - you need to log out as me and back in as you for your commenting.
mary - isn't it amazing that such stupid little children grow up to be intelligent wonderful adult women?
dad - ok, you didn't inherit the understanding of "age appropriate" from her then, mr. show-your-daughter-a-clockwork-orange-when-she-was-waaaaay-too-young.
rachel - clever...or repressed? hmmmmm.
My mother used to hide my presents in my own sock drawer. Then again, she also hid her vodka bottles in my drawers, so that might explain it.
hmm...and i constantly wondered why my dad always wanted to pick out Santa's cookies.
I used to do the same! LOL when I read "we lifted, molested, shook and held to the light any and everything with our names on it" - I still do, btw, when I don't know what it is!
One year, I even unwrapped one end, peeked in and then redid the end...Hee.
Post a Comment