P's excitement for Solstice and Santa this year was unprecedented. We do nothing to "build up" the season. We don't chat incessantly about gift possibilities or wish lists, listen to holiday music or read "The night before Xmas" before bed each evening. We're not Scroogish Grinches, we're just very, well, Relaxed about it all.
The difference this year was the presence of Xmas propaganda in our lives. P watched "The Polar Express" with my mom one evening in Kansas. It seemed a small price to pay for a date with E (I don't remember the last time we had one - not that mom doesn't offer! (Thanks mom!!!) P just isn't very interested in us skipping out without him ;) So Grams and P had a lovely evening, and E and I had a lovely evening with Micki and Blaine, and all was well.
Then started the Santa questions. We talked about story-world and the spirit of giving and I assumed simplicity would reign once again. Ha. Hahaha. Despite my honest answers to his direct questions (Santa is a lovely story, parents like to play Santa for kids to keep that magic alive yadiyadiyadi) P Wanted to believe. As soon as I realized this I changed directions. If asked a question I'd no longer answer it, I'd just turn it back to him. After all, he knew the answers he wanted to hear....
Soon he'd watched the show a number of times and fell for the story more with each viewing. He'd ask BB if BB thought Santa would leave anything under our tree. He'd ask me if Santa was real ("What do you think, P?" To which he'd whisper in a smiling little voice "I think, maybe, mama!") And then he got wise.
While on the phone to Grams he asked her if anyone lives at the North Pole. My mother (who has sweetly tried to hide her dismay at the lack of Mr. Clause in our life thus far and who created the most wonderful Christmas cheer for me as a kid), joyously replied "Of course! Santa does!" P's smile could have lit up the Rockefeller tree. He shoved the phone at me and ordered me to ask her, in order that I might hear her fabulous answer. Then, buoyed by Gram's gusto, he fixed me with his baby blues and asked me the same, exact question. "Mama, does anyone live at the North Pole?" Being the beacon for all things true while supporting a child's belief in magic is a tough line for me to walk. I'm afraid I falter to the side of reality and honesty a wee bit too much. Determined not to crush the magic he obviously wanted to conjure into his life, but unable to stomach a fresh faced lie right then, I jumped ship. "Well, P, I've never been to the North Pole, so I don't really know...."
And so it went for the last two weeks. He'd lob questions and I'd play dodgeball. It was enough to get us through the season with his hopes high and my ethics unsullied. But as D-day neared I realized this wasn't quite the same as slyly supporting stories of fairies. Its one thing to playfully imagine talking monsters or hunt for fairy dancing rings. Its quite another to provide definitive Proof. And that's what P wanted most of all, a package of proof, preferably with pretty paper.
I fully planned to let him dream his dreams while I sat out on the sidelines vicariously enjoying the childhood magic. And then it hit me, what happens when he wakes up and finds no fat man present under the tree? Will he be crushed? A quick survey of those who know him well all voted, unanimously, yes. He'd be pancaked. Whether he'd worry Santa forgot him or, perhaps worse, start buying into the twisted "only for good boys and girls" bullshit, he would ponder it to be sure.
Then, as we Tried to go to sleep Christmas Eve, P tossed and turned and bounced and babbled. I still had to unbox and then wrap everything sent by P's dedicated Grandparents and Uncles (it was all stashed in another apartment as the little man couldn't stand to be near it all without opening it, yet wanted them saved for the special day) and it was getting really late. I finally informed him that if we couldn't get to sleep soon, I'd be too tired to have everything under the tree for morning time and we'd have to wait until the afternoon. Would he rather sleep, or do presents later in the day. P was quiet for a minute and then told me. "That's ok, mama. That's ok if you don't put presents under the tree. Santa will." D'oh. Then he decided he Did want to go to sleep, requesting as he nodded off that I put the family presents somewhere other than under the tree. He wanted that space purposefully left open...
So I carefully wrapped his tiny would-be New Year's present and placed it with a chocolate santa and a box of candy canes under the tree. Then I wrapped his Christmas gifts and sat them on the other side of the room.
P, like all children worth their salt, got up unusually early. I prepped him that his family gifts were not under the tree, but by the door per his request. Not that he had any expectation of a huge pile, nor did he receive a huge pile, I just didn't want him crushed at first glance by the small, singular package under the tree.
He was not. The same slow dance from Solstice took place, lots of hemming and hawing before any unwrapping. But this time it was highlighted by curious banter. Who could have left that box under the tree if you put the presents by the door? If the family presents are There, who's gift is There. And every iteration of that question you can imagine. Each query left unanswered with a quick "Hmmm, what do you think P?" His excitement was hilarious. He purposefully avoided opening Santa's present (for that was the conclusion he came to) until the end. Having not pre-planned for an impressive red suited delivery, the tiny last minute substitute could have been a massive disappointment. But no, the kid was just so happy Santa came that it never crossed his mind to wish for more. I love that about this age!
P, shocked to the floor upon seeing something stashed under his tree...
P, excessively anxious that someone help him get the Tape Off!!! ;)
The Santa issue finally solved in his mind, P relaxed into Christmas day, playing heartily. He vroomed tractors and mini-jackhammers (BB was given the deeds to the additional construction trucks, mayhem ensued again ;) and clanged bells (oh, the chimes! I knew he'd like them but I had No Idea. After much dinging he announced that the two C's were his favorites.
And so it went, him marching through the house, shaking them loudly while E and I marched behind with various chords. He would play that game, I truly believe, for hours...) He raced his P-powered jeep and finally, when he had no more run left in him, settled into his new swing and listened to one of his absolute favorites, newly minted on a CD, Frog and Toad.
Energized by his spinning he was ready to tackle his P-powered flashlight. Almost through his second read of Hugo Cabret (about a boy that is a whiz with gears and clocks) P was pretty inspired by the small gears required to make the flashlight work and quite impressed they were able to create light.
Papa helps with the gears
After a day of fun his highlights arrived: Uncle Seth and Bric and Aunt Alicia. They came bearing gifts and delicious food (thanks Alicia;) and, of course, themselves.
P requested they swing him and they sweetly complied. If you aren't familiar with the Schultz's talent for constant noisemaking, you can get a general idea from this video, featuring Seth's numerous swinging sounds ;)
For a holiday we had hoped to make more about family and less about consumption, this post probably sounds the opposite ;) And while the idea of getting gifts was god to P that day, at the end of his day it was, like all others, about family. But the days leading up to it were certainly also about Santa :)
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