Psychology

Toiling away at midnight for a 100 kisses

My son still believes in Santa Claus. Although, he doesn’t necessarily believe that Santa Claus comes on December 25th. Santa shops throughout the month of December and he drops them off on random nights leading up to Christmas day itself. That’s my son’s understanding of what happens around this time of the month. Because Santa Claus has an Amazon Prime addiction, my son ends up with gifts under the Christmas tree way before the rest of us at home. Sadly, in his eyes, I always am last on Santa’s list. I tend to not receive any Santa gifts until right before Christmas day itself. Gee, I wonder why that is in part? 
Each morning he excitedly gets up and looks under the tree for his gifts and inspects to see who else has received a Santa drop-off. I must say that waking up to his squeals of delight noting that Santa came yet again is just the best alarm clock ever.  What will I do when he no longer believes in Santa? What will I do when he no longer squeals in delight? What will I do when he is an adult in his own space?  Oh my. I just depressed myself greatly.  Ok. But back to my current delight.

I have had an enormously long, tiring, difficult week. I had secret and non-secret meetings that wore me down. But I’m back on track now. That is a whole other story that I’ve gone on about a bit this week. Talk about beating a dead horse. Where does that phrase come from, by the way?  Why would you want to beat a dead horse? Or a living one for that matter. What strange idioms we have. Most definitely we have idioms that don’t necessarily fit our 21st century lifestyle.  Anyway, where was I?
I have been so busy, that although I did shop on Santa’s behalf, I didn’t have time throughout the week to gift wrap Santa’s drop-offs. What a lazy guy, that Santa. I tell ya the work ethic ain’t what it used to be. As a result two very early-set gifts from when we put up the tree week remained lonely under the tree. My son kept checking wondering why nothing more had arrived and wondering why I had not yet received anything. He remembered my past lack of assembled gifts.  I could see the pity in his eyes. Oh, how devastating. I’m really a cool person but how will he reconcile my professed-coolness with lack of Santa attention?

I asked him what would happen if he got all the remaining gifts that Santa would be dropping off by December 25th and I got nothing. He looked at me with those baby eight-year old eyes and cupped my face. He then said “well, then I will give you a hundred kisses.” A hundred, kisses, I asked? Indeed, he confirmed. How could I be so lucky? 
I then drank a ton of Coke Zero and I stayed up late into the night fixing up the tree and placed some small gift-wrapped trinkets under the tree. All had his name on them. He would squeal with delight thus providing me with double happiness. I wanted those 100 kisses. And I was going to cash in on that offer. Baby kisses beat any leather jacket, Ebag, or iPad Pro. Not that I still wouldn’t mind getting those as well.

Categories: Psychology

4 replies »

  1. Wow! Mimi.
    This is so reminiscent of the path we took with our son. What a wonderful state of pure fantasy to believe in Santa. I can still see our wonderful young man’s eight year old eyes in much the same way.

    Secret and not so secret meetings?? ( Santa perhaps?)

    I imagine Christmas Day will see you waking early and through sleepy eyes, delighting in the excitement and pleasure of having such a great friendship and love with your son. Enjoy every moment Mimi. B

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