The way I see it, the holiday season should be spent practicing the rotten things we do to each other and our children. Then we can spend the other 11 months being kind and gentle and loving.
For example:
All the whining and begging for gifts. Can I have this please? Can I have that please? Is that all I get? Is that all I can have? I want more! I want that! And that’s just me!
Let’s fight for parking spaces and curse each other out loudly in front of our children. Let’s trample people down hunting for a $200 toy that our children break in 20 minutes or forget about in one day. Who hasn’t heard that wail and lament, “I don’t have anything to do.”
Donate broken toys to charities and hope that they can fix them when we can’t, couldn’t or wouldn’t. It’s the tax break baby!
Celebrate capitalism. Spend without regard to budget, rent, food and charity. Show our kids that the more expensive the gifts, the more we love them.
Tell your child Santa doesn’t exist and then try and make them sit on Santa’s lap.
Spike Santa’s milk and cookies. Buy gag candles for your Menorah that won’t burn down. See if you can keep them going for 8 days without your kids figuring it out.
Eat until you’re bloated and then try and explain to your children about starving children in other countries.
Send holiday cards out without regard to the religion of your friends. Send a letter or e-mail highlighting your year and all the wonderful things you’ve done ad nausea. Oh, I love the spirit of the holidays!
What better way to create a festive spirit than watching TV. I’ve been watching all the kid stations lately. Occasionally, my kids are there too.
Every kid is good looking. Even the bad guys look good. How do you explain that to your kids? Or that most of the actors are so white that you can set your camera’s white setting off the tube. And the toys! Oh the toys!
All toys have their own television shows. All shows have their own toys.
My son loved (past tense) those battling, spinning tops. The stadium for those tops cost $20 for a piece of plastic. He got two, but I put up a good battle before caving.
And my daughter with those American Girl dolls? I’m waiting for one of those dolls to get pregnant and have to explain that part of the story!
Barbie has her own show, her own books, her own movies. Thank goodness the boys still talk about Star Wars. I can hold my own there. Trying to explain that guns and bombs equal permanent time out’s gets harder with every show.
I’ll let you go now. I have to go buy more gifts for my family. Hope I can find a parking space.