I'm at work today when my manager asks this little girl what she wants Santa to bring her, to which this ... ahem... adorable little thing replies, "Excuse me? Santa is not real. Mommy buys everything I want."
Fortunately for both her and myself (for I am not above delivering a flying pile-driver to a four-year-old), her grandmother laid a verbal smackdown on her. She said, and I quote, "*Insert child's name here*, if your mother told you Santa isn't real, not only is he not bringing her any presents, she can forget about the box of presents from Grampy and me for y'all."
I wanted to openly point and laugh at the look of terror on that little girls face, for it was obvious to see that her mother had, in fact, told her child that Santa isn't real. Which brings me to my next question: What the fuck, Mom?! Why on earth would you tell your child that the magical fat man that brings you presents every year was a fraud?! I STILL GET EXCITED ABOUT THE GIFTS UNDER THE TREE FROM SANTA!!! Those are the gifts that my parents painstakingly stalked my facebook, twitter, and online diaries for a year to figure out what I wanted most. Those are the presents that they didn't take me to a store and say, okay, what do you need this year? A jacket? Some new jeans? School supplies?
Let me make this clear. Of course there isn't a Santa. But there is a Spirit of Giving. And Goddamnit, if that isn't enough of a "Santa" for you people, fuck you. I'm not going to tell you how to parent your children. But let me tell you, future co-father of my future adopted babies, if you so much as hint at the fact that Santa is more of an idea than a real person, if you say the words "Santa", "not real", and "meatballs" in the same sentence, and if you don't let my children take photos with every mall Santa they feel like pissing on the leg of, you can consider this future marriage over.
Respectfully,
Ash
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