House of Eratosthenes

My nine-year-old was the oldest one in line at the mall to see Santa Claus. We were actually there to have a nice lunch together, and we didn’t know Santa would be stopping by. We became aware of it when one of the younger toe-heads was done with telling Santa what he wanted…except…he didn’t think he was done. Jeebus, you talk about LOUD. You’d think someone was pouring boiling water all over his bare ass, you know?

So the dad tries to calm the kid down by hauling him off somewhere and letting him cry it out. Where all parents take their bratty kids in situations like that. Close to ME.

And the kid’s just yammering away. Yammering, yammering…like this…

Dad decides to try a different tack. No, not the one I would have done. He hauls the little shit back in to see Santa again! And we can hear the kid in there, screaming in poor Santa’s ear. One minute turns into two…two minutes turn into three…it goes on and on and on. And I’m thinking, hmm, there’s a career choice I need to remember to pass up even if it means living in a cardboard box.

Naughty And so, on a lark we decided to see Santa.

Now, Santa’s little helper has a nice digital camera, and they’re charging five bones a pop for a picture of your kid with Santa. One problem: The card is downloading or something…so there’s a delay. So my son gets a little extra time to tell Santa about all the crap he wants. Blah, blah, blah. Well he gets to the end of the list…card is still downloading.

Santa needs to stall for time. So he asks the boy if he’s been nice all year. My son says absolutely yes. And Santa smells some bullshit, because y’know, he’s Santa…and there is some…anyway, that’s what I think. So the grilling continues, and they start to have a conversation about how much niceness you need to get your list taken care of, and what some naughtiness does to it. And how you should always tell the truth to Santa, because he knows anyway.

So he’s got my son on his lap and he’s reminding him it’s okay if he had a little tiny spell of naughtiness sometime this year. Because that’s all right, you know…happens to everyone.

My son looks right up at him, steals a glance at me, looks back at Santa…and he says, so that all the parents and kids in line behind me can hear every syllable…”Well — my Dad’s been naughty.” Of course I could feel my ears burning as the crowd roared with laughter.

Way to throw the ol’ man under the bus, kid.

So that’s how mine went. Hope yours was merry too.

Update: Here’s to best wishes for what remains of ’06, and for the New Year and many months thereafter. Hope the best of dreams of everyone reading this, and of everyone who never will, are realized in full and may the wind blow gently at the backs of all humanity…except for the stupid bitch who took trotted her sick kids around and gave my girlfriend the flu. Her temperature is about 101.5 and it’s a lotta fun. Oh well, we had good Christmas in spite of it. I think the squeeze was a little depressed that her physical strength just flat-ass gave out in the middle of the gift exchange, and she had to go to bed ’cause she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. And I’m the one who got coal in his stocking, huh. Someone’s out there spreading a virus because she can’t do her Christmas shopping when the hubby or boyfriend could watch the kids…or doesn’t want to bother with getting a sitter…or is simply inconsiderate. And I’m the one who gets coal. Santa, your lists need some work.

Update: And an extra helping of Christmas itching powder down the underpants of all the snotty atheists who think they’re so much smarter than everybody else, spurred by their sense of right-and-wrong to leap into action when “IN GOD WE TRUST” is found on our money, or when bus drivers wear Santa hats. — BUT — won’t get off their conceited atheist asses to keep a single McDonald’s open on Christmas Day so I can get my kid a happy meal. Isn’t it funny? There is a principle at stake in keeping church & state separate, always, until such a fracas might possibly have a side-benefit of convenience for the rest of us…like having mail delivered on December 25th for example. And then, they’re nowhere to be found. Politically active only when they’re being a pain in the ass. Atheists make me sick. Show me ten atheists, I’ll bet I can show you at least nine assholes who put out a Christmas stocking — and probably eight who screamed and yelled like a red-headed stepchild when they didn’t get what they wanted. Coal for ME, Santa? Why? Why are we putting up with the atheists at all? EVERYBODY ELSE…Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Update: And whoever drew up the plans for my son’s toy. An air-pressure powered styrofoam rocket that’s supposed to go 120 feet in the air. Kinda blips up somewhere between eight and ten INCHES, if that. Hey thanks guys! Well, we got to spend some time together exploring trails, kinda doing guy stuff as father and son. Good Christmas all in all. Would have been even better with a rocket that did what it was SUPPOSED to do. Screw you guys. You’re ripping of little kids on Christmas, charging good money for toys that don’t work. And I get coal. Everybody ELSE, I wish a joyous holiday season and the upcoming year brings you everything you want, and none of the things you don’t.

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Christmas 2006Monday, December 25th, 2006

Christmas 2006
Monday, December 25th, 2006