Luck, Duck, Santa

Back when I knew everything, I was convinced the whole Santa thing was a terrible, no-good idea. I figured that I didn't need some omnipresent know-it-all to keep my kid in line as she (or he or they) would listen to me just because I was the boss of the universe.

Go ahead, laugh.

Done now?

Moving on . . . so then I had a kid and you can probably imagine just how long the whole "Just Say No to Santa" thing lasted. I do have to give myself a little credit, though. I managed to make it over three years without whipping out the Santa Card. Then Alexis had a particularly jerktastic day at some point this summer and I grabbed myself a whole deck of Santa Cards and told her, "If you don't knock it off, Santa won't bring you any presents for Christmas."

Her reaction was so magical that I went out and invested in a whole case of those Santa Cards. Threats! With results! Fun!

Ever since then I've relied on that Santa Card when I was too lazy to come up with a real threat. It works every time because Alexis is scared to death that Santa will notice she's up to no good and will refuse to drop her Princess ball under the tree. (I know, the kid needs to figure out that Santa can do better than a Princess ball.)

We spent a good part of Sunday out Christmas shopping and included a stop in an area upscale mini mall (The Galleria for you nosy types ;-) ). It turns out that when you are surrounded with stores that charge a fortune for potholders and kids' clothes, there is an excellent chance that the mall Santa will come complete with a cheap suit and a really bad fake beard. As we walked past, we offered to let Alexis talk to him, but she was having none of it. Of course. It was sort of for the best anyway since she is going to be one of those kids who figures out the whole Santa thing way too soon. The really bad fake beard would have been quite the hint.

Since she didn't want to chat up the fat guy, we ducked into Panera for some unnecessary junk food. As we were standing in line, Alexis kept putting a disgusting germ-ridden glitter-covered keychain in her mouth, and I kept telling her to knock it off. Finally, as we were stepping back into the mall, I snatched the keychain from her mouth and shoved it in my pocket.

She wasn't amused.

She stomped her feet, summoned some crocodile tears, and started whining that she wanted her keychain back. I am deaf to whining, so I just kept on walking, letting her lag behind and continue on with her fit.

Then it occurred to me. We had just walked past Santa.

"Santa saw you being bad," I told her.

Alexis froze in her tracks, her face contorting into a look that clearly said she didn't know the exact curse word she needed, but it probably rhymes with "duck."

"No, he didn't," she attempted to argue her way out of the quandary.

"He's right there and he saw you being bad. Now what are you going to do?" I asked, fighting the urge to bust out laughing.

She stood silently weighing her options and then ran back to see if the Big Guy had indeed seen the error. Just as she laid eyes on him, he looked up and waved at her.

I nearly passed out trying not to laugh at the look on the kid's face. She knew she was screwed.

After some negotiations between Mr. Husband, myself, and Alexis, it was decided that I would tell Santa that Alexis had apologized for her bad behavior.

She's been an angel ever since.

Spoiler Alert: The Princess and the Frog

I long ago grew accustomed to uncomfortable questions about death. It's rare that a week goes by without Alexis asking about our pup Jasmine. While it's been well over a year since she unexpectedly died, Alexis is still trying to figure it all out. Her questions have, over time, become more complicated and more worldly, a reflection of her advancing age and maturity.

I try to answer her honestly (there is no other answer for, "Why did she die?" than I DON'T KNOW--that's the simple truth of the matter). I do not dodge the questions. I figure that's what we get for naming our dog after a Disney Princess; Alexis is immersed in a world with constant reminders that, for her, there are "two Jasmines--purple Jasmine and white Jasmine" and "white Jasmine" is no longer with us.

(Note to self: Quit naming things after Disney characters.)

Anyway, I pretty much assumed that there would be a death in The Princess and the Frog. That's how Disney rolls. A movie can't sport the mark of the Mouse unless somebody bites the big one. As we sat watching the movie with Alexis, a movie she had been waiting MONTHS to see, I thought we were home free when Tiana's dad died. It was sort of a passing moment, not really a major part of the plot. No questions, no fuss, no muss. (More like the Aladdin Has No Mommy kind of dead and less like the Lion King Buh-Bye Daddy of death.)

In fact, I really liked the movie at that point (and still do, but . . .). The main theme is that you can wish on the evening star all you want, but only hard work will make your dreams come true. Forget the usual reliance on good looks or standing around waiting for Prince Charming to come along to make everything all right. Finally! My kind of Disney Princess movie!

And then the damn lightening bug got squished. Frickin' frackin' Disney and their need to kill off characters led to a chorus of kids asking, "Why did he do that?" as they watched the villain murder a loved character. All through the theater you could hear parents struggling to answer the questions or change the subject.

Just when it seemed that it was going to be one of those, "Oh, yeah, he died but we're going to just move on" kind of moments, the damn lightening bug showed back up and then finished off his little dying routine on screen.

Thanks, Disney! That was a fantastic little moment right there.

That fantastic little moment was made better by the funeral that followed.

The good news is that the squished bug ended up going where he was meant to be, so to speak.

So, good on Disney for giving us a talking point to talk about death and respect and funerals and heaven and all that jazz, but WHY DIDN'T THEY WARN ME? Why can't Disney flicks come with some sort of rating about whether or not a movie is going to make my kid question the meaning of life? Kind of like, "Rated E for This One Will be Easy to Explain" to "Rated F for You Are So Effed if You Think You Can Just Blow this One Off."

I just wish Disney would figure out that the primary audience for princess flicks is little girls who like sparkles, shiny things, pretty dresses, and who ask way too many questions.

It Took Her Long Enough

Way back in July, I struck a deal with the devil. I agreed to buy her the obnoxious camper that goes with her dollhouse, but only if she slept in her own bed ten whole times.

She wanted that camper. Bad.

She wanted to sleep anywhere but her own bed more.

Four months later, she finally made it to nine, but only after repeatedly making 2:00am declarations like, "I don't want the dollhouse car," and "I'll sleep in my bed tomorrow."

This is a kid who knows all about immediate gratification and knows NOTHING about how bribery works.

It took a full month to get that last night, as she finally scored her camper today. She was very excited. I'm depressed to realize it took her five months to accrue ten nights in her bed.

No wonder I have bags under my eyes so deep you could drive a life-sized camper in there.