Christmas: the season of giving… and lying?
I am many things, but I pride myself on the fact that the one thing I am not is a liar. I am brutally honest, even sometimes to a fault.
This approach does not always work, especially when it comes to little kids. The term ‘kid gloves’ come to mind. You can’t always be honest with a little one, either because it isn’t appropriate to be (say they walk in on you having sex), or because they just won’t understand. These are what I like to call harmless little white lies.
With the holiday season, I find myself spitting them out left and right, and it feels a little weird.
Of course there’s the age old lie about Santa Clause. We all know he doesn’t really exist, and I know some people like to hum and ha about how we shouldn’t let our children believe a fantasy, but COME THE FUCK ON. It’s Santa, and Santa is magical. I remember how much I loved believing that the fat fucker came down my chimney and left me presents under the tree, and how excited I got over the whole ordeal- so why would I deprive my kids of that same joy and magic?
So there is lie numero uno, and I don’t feel one shred of guilt over it.
Being that I have a strong dislike of the holiday season because of psychos trampling others and pepper spraying them in stores over a fucking XBox, the god awful traffic, and the money pouring out of my ass- I do not like to go holiday shopping. Online shopping is my BFF, but this year it seems like the online prices of toys do NOT beat those in stores, so I am forced to go out, and no way in hell am I doing that alone or tasking Thomas to do it (and chancing him getting the wrong thing), so it’s gotta be all of us.
With Holden at the ripe old age of 4, and likely his last year of being completely dense, it’s not very hard to sneakily buy his gifts in front of him without him seeing them… but the kid isn’t totally stupid.
Even with separate carts, keeping him away from the toys I was hiding underneath of a sweater, the kid still knew something didn’t smell right, and when we got into the car he started talking about “all the presents in the trunk”
Ohhhhh, no you don’t! Some of these presents we would be marking to him from ‘Santa’- so there was no way I was going to let him poop all over the surprise, so out came white lie #2.
Those gifts aren’t for you!
A whole back and forth conversation about how they were for his Grandaddy (my dad), and what the gifts were (I said clothes), just so he wouldn’t uncover white lie #1. It was exhausting, and I honestly don’t have a clue if he even bought it.
I swear to all that is holy if that kid’s eyes don’t light up on Christmas morning, I will have to sell him on Craigslist to get back all the money that I…er… Santa spent on his ass.
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