Obviously I don’t remember life when I was four; but as far back as I can recall I know I was vibrating out of my pants over Christmas for weeks beforehand. I wish I knew at what age I really did understand it all because I’m kind of worried my kid is a bit of an Ebeneezer Scrooge. I’m not saying that he walks around mumbling “Bah Humbug”, but the he doesn’t seem to be as excited and loving this last week before Christmas as I think he should be.
He had fun decorating the Christmas tree, he hung in there for about a half hour through baking cookies but HATED Frosty the Snowman, Rudolph AND Santa Claus is Coming To Town! He hated Burl Ives and Andy Williams! I know most kids don’t cream their shorts over Burl and Andy but it’s still Frosty, Rudolph and Santa! He thought the cartoons were boring!
The real cherry on top of the sundae cake came Sunday. We were vegging on the couch watching “Elf”; the kid cracked up for an hour and a half straight, but it’s a long movie and having the attention span of seaweed he flaked out on me when Santa crashed into Central Park.
I kept the movie playing as we kicked a ball back and forth to each other and when I noticed that Santa was about to fly over Manhattan; I said “Hey! Turn around, look at the television; it’s Santa!”
He glanced over his shoulder; looked back at me and said:
Ya – good luck on Christmas kid.
Andy and Burl may forgive you, but the big guy may not be so lenient.