electric boogaloo

We may try to go and see Santa tomorrow. Kevin wants to be there, which if you knew how much Kevin hated malls, you’d be thinking holy shit he’s going to walk into a mall the week before Christmas on purpose? He must really want to be there. He does. Although he will bitch, but that’s his right. Nay, his obligation.

Nicolaus is excited but reserved. This year he wants to tell Santa about all different sea creatures, because he’s a boy and a dolphin who is kind of like very insterded in science, and Santa will think that’s cool. Yesterday he said, “Won’t Santa be surprised when he sees me?”

He said it a bunch more times - Santa is going to be really surprised - until finally I asked why. “Because I’ve grown so much.” In his best, most patientest DUH voice.

A few days ago while we were driving, they played “Santa Claus is coming to town” on the radio. Nicolaus found this song very disturbing. He liked the part about Santa coming to town, but the rest of it — the spying and the threats of no presents — worried him. “How does Santa know when you’re awake?”

“Because he’s magic.” I started to add Though I’m sure the Patriot Act has simplified things for Santa, but I didn’t because stupid jokes like usually that lead to hours of intense questioning until I finally just give up and say, “Nicolaus? Sometimes I just say stuff that doesn’t make any sense. Because I think I am hilarious. Don’t you think I’m hilarious?” And he always answers: “No. I don’t.”

“Why does Santa need to see when all the kids are awake?”

“To make sure they’re being good.” At this point I was having fun with it, rolling with the whole silly game of a lie that we all get in on at some point.

But the more he thought about the song, the more upset he got. His voice quivered as he started a panicked list of every thing he had done wrong recently. “The other day… but I was just having a really bad day and I just didn’t mean to yell but I did because you were just frustrating me so much but I was just having a bad day and now Santa… isn’t? Going to come or want to…”

“Woah woah woah… calm down…”

“And when I pushed Graham off the blue chair it was an accident and he was jumping and we were playing canonball but I don’t like to call it canonball because that’s too violent and it might scare Graham so we were jumping and I was jumping too - too - too high, you know? And he’s just a baby and I didn’t know… that Santa…”

He was still freaking out when I parked at the post office. I got out and shut my door, and when I slid open the door next to his carseat he was still waving his hands and talking. “And why… what if… I don’t remember to be good and I throw a toy, accidentally, kind of, and Santa?”

“NICOLAUS.” I put my hands over his and looked right into his eyes. “Do not worry about it.”

“But Santa –”

“No. Do not worry about it. You know what?” Suddenly I channeled Bob Sagot and all of the writers from Full House except for the one responsible for that crazy bitch Kimmie, “You are a good person, and you have a good heart. You care about your family and you are nice to animals and you try every day to be sweet to us all. And THAT is what Santa cares about. He knows that everyone has a bad day, everyone messes up sometimes, but so what? You try, and you are a good person in here. So you do not worry one more second about being naughty or nice so Santa will bring you stuff. Okay?”

I didn’t know if it would work. He’s a lot harder to shut off than Graham, who simply needs to be reassured sometimes that he has toes or that kitties exist or that yes that IS a ball!

“Okay. Thanks, Mama.” His thankses are so earnest sometimes. Those thankses kick ass.

So we might go and see Santa tomorrow. Nicolaus tried to write a letter to bring to him, but he got frustrated because the letter S is a cruel whore. So he dictated, and I wrote:

Dear Santa,
I am 3 and a half.

That’s it. That’s all he wanted to say. Being almost four is a major point of pride to Nicolaus, so I’m guessing that in his mind the letter basically says: “Just a quick update Santa to let you know that I have aged, and am no longer a little baby two year old. I’m three and a HALF. So please bring me a lot of bigger kid real science stuff. Like a chemistry set even though my mother says no.”

Then he drew a reindeer and scribbled over it with snow because you know. Snow.

So we’re almost ready to go see Santa. First, we have to stop by Hobby Lobby because he wants to bring Santa a seashell.

Second, we have to get Graham drunk enough that he won’t notice that Santa has a beard. Because holy shit you have never seen anyone freak out until you’ve seen what this baby does when someone has a beard.