Santa's Shoes

The idea of Santa Claus absolutely captivates children who believe in him.  He's magical, generous, benevolent, and all-knowing.  When I speak to my children about him, they are quick to remind me of all of the uncanny insight Santa seems to have when he writes them letters.  Never mind the reality that some day they'll discover it was really their mother who has been in charge of the Santa correspondence, because for now, his ability to know that much about them, as well as their desires, their hopes, and their wishes, is nothing short of miraculous.

When my daughter was five years old, Santa came to visit the kindergarten classes in the school library.  When she arrived home after school, she insisted on providing every detail to her mother.  Santa was kind and genial and handed out candy canes to all of the students.  He waved to all the children and went about his Santa ways, but not all was well.  Apparently, "Santa" was an imposter and my five-year-old daughter had proof that she desperately needed her mother to hear.

"What do you mean, 'he wasn't the real Santa?'"  Her mother asked, trying to maintain composure.

"Well," my daughter exclaimed as she built her case.  "He wasn't tall enough or big enough to be the real Santa.  He wasn't even fat!"

"Are you sure he wasn't fat?"  Her mother prompted, completely ignoring our five-year-old's arbitrary assessment of his height.

"Yes!"  She declared, "he had a pillow under his suit.  It wasn't his real belly.  And his suit didn't look real either."

"Oh," offered her mother, "well, I'm not sure that's ..."

"And his beard was fake!"  She blurted out, cutting across her mother.  "It wasn't even a real beard!  And when he laughed," she continued, gaining momentum, "he did it wrong!  He said 'ho-ha-ho,' and not 'ho-ho-ho!' the way Santa laughs."

"Is that so?"  Replied her mother, barely concealing a smirk.

"Yes!  And when he laughed, his belly did not move!"

"Really?"

"Yes!"  She continued, "and when someone asked him about his reindeer, he said his deer were at The North Pole.  The real Santa would have said 'reindeer,' because Santa doesn't have deer!  He has reindeer!"

Thinking the story was complete, my wife composed herself for further discussion.  She decided to ask if other classmates had also noticed these anomalies.  The picture painted by my five-year-old daughter's response was one of her, and a handful of other students who were aware of these inconsistencies, but kept to the back of the group, whispering conspiratorially amongst themselves.  They knew the truth.  This man was an imposter, and everyone else was being duped!

Still clinging to the notion that she could convince our daughter otherwise, my wife then tried to offer explanations for all of these oddities through suppressed amusement, only to be greeted by the most convincing evidence of all:

"No, Mama."  She said, wearing a resolute expression on her face, as though struggling to grasp how her mother was so dismissive of such overwhelming evidence.  "He wasn't wearing Santa Shoes.  He was wearing boy shoes!"  She placed special emphasis on the last two words, nodding as though this settled things.  On top of the mountain of previously discussed evidence, the real Santa wears real Santa shoes, and there's simply no other way to see it.  

Of course he does.

The Flight of Buddy

The holiday season as a father is nothing like it was as a child.  Granted, my childhood is hardly the standard that anything should be compared to, but it's the only childhood I have, so it continues to serve as my standard for comparison.  Putting it mildly, the bar for my standard is quite low.  Imagination, fantasy, and the belief that anything was possible meant that one was gullible, and thus inferior.  It's no wonder I stopped believing in Santa Claus by the time I was seven, and the idea of an Elf on the Shelf seemed so absurd it wasn't worth discussing.

Thankfully, my children are growing up in a household with a mother determined to make childhood as magical as possible.  More importantly, my wife makes a concerted effort with holidays.  Halloween decorations are mandatory during that first weekend in October.  They remain in place until November 1st when "Halloween Season" officially comes to a close and my wife dutifully replaces them with Thanksgiving decorations.  Christmas decorations go up the day after Thanksgiving and remain in place until New Year's Day.  As a result, there is never a doubt about which holiday season we are in.

We also encourage our children's creativity, and are delighted when their imagination challenges our ideas on what is real and what is possible.  Our children write Santa Letters and mail them to the North Pole — and Santa (aka their mother) writes back!  We ride The Polar Express.  We ride The Santa Train.  We even have an Elf on the Shelf who visits us annually, but only because my children asked Santa for one in their Santa Letters.

On Christmas Eve, when my son was six and my daughter was eight, we were trying to usher them to bed so we could make the necessary preparations for the following morning.  My son, however, could not go to bed until getting in a final word with Buddy (our Elf on the Shelf) before he flew away with Santa during the night:

"Okay, Buddy!  Don't forget to tell Santa to bring me a big BB-8, okay?!" He said with gusto, immediately following by, "but a BIG BB-8!"

Apparently, he had been filled with anxiety because he forgot to list said item on his Santa Letter that he had mailed out weeks previously.  Lucky for us, "Santa" had purchased that very item several months prior when finances weren't so thin.  

Christmas morning brought on delightful elation when Santa brought each of our children an item they had specifically requested of Buddy, but none more so than the big BB-8 for our six year old son.  The delight they experienced is something they continue to generously share with us, infusing us, if only for those moments, with the joy of childhood.

Fact and Fiction

Perhaps I'm alone, but the holiday season tends to bring out some of the worst behavior in the general public.  Everyone is rushing or in some sort of hurry, and everyone seems to think they're the only ones who have somewhere to go, or obligations to meet.  This impatience and general ill-temperedness may peak on Black Friday, but that doesn't stop it from remaining in full force until after the first of the year.

That's not to say that I am this wonderful ball of joy, embracing everything good the holiday season has to offer.  As it turns out, my "bah humbug" moments usually surround Christmas Carols.  The songs are the same, year after year.  No, it doesn't matter that Bowie is singing The Little Drummer Boy, or that Justin Timberlake is on that Christmas album.  The truth is, there are only so many times one can hear a song, and though that limit is different for all, I reached my limit for Christmas Carols quite some time ago.

Rather than lament the things I dislike about the holidays, and allowing that to permeate everything I love about life, I prefer to embrace the holiday-related things I do like ... and I also share those with my children.  We do this in the form of holiday movies.  While we do have a few tried-and-true standby movies we watch annually, like Dr. Seuss' How The Grinch Stole Christmas (1966) and A Charlie Brown Christmas (1965), it's nice when we are able to add a new movie to the holiday season rotation.

Rise of the Guardians was released in time for the 2012 holidays and my children loved it — all except for the part where the elves don't make the toys.  In the movie, the toys are made by The Yetis rather than the elves.  The elves are present in the movie, but they are depicted as inept, and also as a bit of a punchline.  My wife and I found this highly amusing, but my five-year-old daughter, in particular, did not care much for this.

One day, shortly after we had first seen the movie, my wife told my children, "you both had better behave or The Yetis will not make you any toys for Christmas."

"The Yetis don't make the toys!"  My daughter interjected.

"Yes they do," my wife reiterated.

"No they don't," my daughter said quite adamantly.

"Of course they do!"  My wife responded, "didn't you see, Rise of the Guardians?"

"Mama!"  Exclaimed my daughter in an exasperated tone, "that's just a MOVIE!  It's PRETEND!  The Yetis don't make the toys!  The ELVES do!"

Of course they do.

Who Are We Here To See?!

Traditions can be the double-edged sword of parenthood.  On one hand, you are setting up comfortable expectations of good times and family, and on the other, you are stuck in a stale rut since your routine has very little variation, particularly around the holidays.  While my children take comfort in annual events, there is a palpable lack of enthusiasm when you go to the well too many times.  There is also the reality that your children are often able to disrupt the best-laid plans of ... well, you know the rest.  Whether it's an illness, injury, or something else entirely, the numerous variables children bring into play will often take precedence over whatever plans us parents have made.

To counteract this reality, my wife and I make a habit out of keeping our best-laid plans a secret for as long as possible.  In short, everything is a surprise.  If it's a tradition or a new event, we keep them in the dark until the last minute as a safeguard against the unexpected.  When you have amazing plans thwarted by an emergency room visit or a sudden onset of the stomach flu, what softens the blow is not having to tell the children it's their fault — because it's not.  The problem is explaining that to someone who sees the world very literally (i.e. very black and white).  No amount of reassurances will undo the guilt they feel.

Long before we ever knew about The Polar Express as an option for the Christmas season, we had a tradition of going to our local train museum for The Santa Train.  Pay a few bucks, get a cool train ride on the the gold standard for transportation from a century ago, and meet Santa.  We also get to check out all the restored trains inside the museum — and my son absolutely LOVES trains.  It's hard to call that anything but money well spent.

Subsequent visits to The Santa Train notwithstanding, that first year stands out for many reasons.  My son's love affair with trains started while watching Thomas and Friends before he could speak.  When he was three, we gave him a train table for Christmas, only to be woken the next day at dawn by my son's thunderous declaration: "All the board!  Welcome to the island of Sodor!"

A year later, on that first Santa Train, we somehow managed to keep our children in the dark even after boarding the train.  When the conductor entered our car, he drew everyone's attention and asked, "Is everyone ready to meet our special guest?"

"Yes!!"  Chorused the children on board.

"Are we here to see The Easter Bunny?"  Asked the conductor playfully.

"Nooooooo!"  

"Who are we here to see?!?!"  He prompted.

Before anyone could utter a syllable, my four year old son threw both fists into the air and exclaimed, "THOMAS!!!!"

Every adult on board burst into laughter, including me and my wife.  My children were clearly the last to know who we were there to see.  Although the train we were on was really old and amazing to see in person, it was not the "Thomas" pictured here (we saved that surprise for another day).  

In the end, they were very excited to see Santa on The Santa Train, but for my four year old son, nothing quite compared to seeing "Thomas," because all trains were "Thomas" to him.

Culture, Peas, and Carrots

It's remarkable when you think about the things that have a lasting influence on society.  Movies may have varying levels of influence, depending on your age, but even if it's limited to an age range, some movies have staying power that defies logic.  We may not all embrace Citizen Kane (1941) or Gone With the Wind (1939) the way previous generations have, but they once enjoyed nearly universal acclaim.

When I was attending the University of California, I was determined to experience all aspects of college life, so I volunteered to work for theatrical shows put on by the students from time to time.  As benevolent as this may make me sound, I also received units toward my degree for doing so, thus it was a win-win.  The problem with working a theatrical production is the downtime between scenes.  My job focus was always costumes: quick changes, quick repairs, and downtime.  In an era before movies became digital, they were anything but portable.  I knew "rich" people who had VCRs and tiny televisions in their vehicles, but even those people were limited by the bulk of VHS tapes.

My solution to the downtime during shows was simple enough: bring a VCR with all the necessary wiring, plus a few tapes just for the variety.  What started as a way for me and the rest of the crew to unwind during downtime, quickly evolved into a reflection of cultural staying power.  The University of California is quite diverse both culturally and ethnically, yet certain movies always filled the room, while others did not.  Instead of the popular romantic comedies or the slapstick comedies of the time, the movies that left standing-room-only in The Green Room tended to be relatable and timeless stories.  

While the age of the movie had some effect, it wasn't the deciding factor.  The three I remember most were Rocky (1976), Star Wars (1977), and Forrest Gump (1994).  Despite two of the three having been released before most of the cast or crew were born, they had staying power decades after their release.  What is the common thread between a boxing movie, an epic space opera, and a Vietnam War period piece?  All of them contained a charismatic underdog the audience desperately wanted to see succeed.

As a family, we share our passion for art and film with one another.  Although my children aren't quite ready for the weight of films like Rocky or Forrest Gump, they have embraced Star Wars.  Despite releasing 30+ years before their births, they find the story relatable, and often quote the film, incorporating it into their daily vernacular.  My wife and I are no different.  We often quote different movies to one another, and speak in a make-shift shorthand that is hard for others to follow.  We aren't the only ones.

When children first learn to speak, their words are distorted, often triggering responses from their parents that are irrelevant.  When my daughter was around 20 months old, we were still in the process of teaching manners: specifically the importance of "please" and "thank you."  Despite her best efforts, my daughter's "thank you" sounded more like "dee-doo," and her "please" sounded more like "peas."  Naturally, this prompted her mother to respond with "peas and carrots" from the Forrest Gump archives in her mind, to the amusement as well as bewilderment of our daughter.

Apparently, she was more amused than bewildered, because it wasn't long after my wife first started quoting Forrest Gump to my daughter that she began asking for things, dispensing with the boring attempts at "please" and enthusiastically exclaiming, "Peas-Tedders!"

Of course you may have more food.  And "dee-doo" for asking politely.

The Boy Lady Gaga

I remember the first time I was introduced to Lady Gaga.  She was performing on American Idol, a show my wife loved despite me.  As a compromise, she would record the show on our DVR, and watch the following day while I prepared dinner.  Although I was never actively watching, I would catch snippets of things going on in the show that I would sometimes find appalling ("Queen Week" comes to mind), certain of the inevitable train wreck the show's producers must have been hoping for.  Being a fan of music in general allowed me to take in moments from time to time, and Lady Gaga's performance was one of those moments.

Her performance was quirky and odd, but in an artistic way, and it reminded me a lot of some of Madonna's performances from the early 90s.  To borrow from American Idol's most (in)famous alum, Simon Cowell, "It was memorable."  "Forgettable" was always the one thing you didn't want to be in his eyes.  

And then Lady Gaga was everywhere.  There was no escaping "Poker Face."  I remember telling my wife that rather than hearing "can't read my, can't read my poker face," I kept hearing "cutie pie, cutie pie, poker face."  Naturally, my version made no sense whatsoever, but me being me, I kept insisting to my children that "cutie pie" is what she was saying to the point that they believed me, prompting my wife to correct the record.  

When my son was three and my daughter was five, my wife sought out the official video and played it for them on her phone.  At first, they would gleefully belt out my "cutie pie" version of the lyrics (something we have plenty of videos of), as the studio cut still wasn't clear enough for them to hear the difference.  This prompted my wife to search YouTube for alternate versions one day while I was at work, believing perhaps an acoustic version would contain less distortion.  This is what she found:

Chris Daughtry's acoustic version was a revelation for my children.  His version was crisp, and powerful, and cleared up any misunderstandings about lyrics created by their father.  It didn't take anything away from the original, but rather added to it, giving it greater depth.  My children were so excited in fact, the moment I arrived home from work, my five year old daughter raced up to me and exclaimed, "Look Daddy!  It's The Boy Lady Gaga!"

Of course it is.

The Flux Capacitor

With so much out there about how awful things have become, it's nice to stop and consider some of the more positive things about living in the 21st Century.  For one thing, the overwhelming majority of us walks around with a super computer on hand, that can instantly provide access to all of the information and knowledge humans have accumulated in our existence — beyond remarkable when one considers how many of us only had land lines and dial-up Internet access at the turn of the century.

Such a sea-change has enabled us to embrace our inner geek.  We are not ridiculed for wearing glasses or loving Star Wars.  We are no longer mocked for having our homes geeked out in servers and cross-platform communication.  Instead, being a geek carries a form of street cred once reserved for auto mechanics, with many envious of our access to a world just beyond their reach.

Perhaps embracing our inner geek has had some unintended consequences.  Back to the Future is now north of 30, yet still holds up as probably the best time-travel movie ever (sorry Star Trek fans).  Sure, the effects and fashion are incredibly dated, but it holds up well as a period piece, and the innocence of my children allows them to enjoy it as much as I did when it was new.  Not only is it a story of redemption for both of the elder McFlys, that redemption is only made possible by the selflessness of their son, Marty.  It also gives us one of the best fictional surnames ever: McFly.

While my daughter was getting caught up in the family dynamics of the plot, my son was captivated by the time machine: The DeLorean.  The climactic Clocktower scene where a bolt of lightning is used to power the flux capacitor, ultimately sending Marty McFly back to his own time, was a jolt to his imagination.

That's where some pipe cleaners, a toy DeLorean, some string, a power outlet, and the unbridled creativity of our six year old son come together for the perfect storm.  Normally, we think nothing of it when our son asks for different materials for an art project.  He's always so involved, that we often hear him doing voices or making laser sounds as he fires imaginary weapons, so it was quite odd to have him race into the kitchen to interrupt us with shouts of "Fire!  Fire!" in lieu of his preferred "Pew!  Pew!  Pew!"

"Yes," my wife responded lazily, "Fire, pew, pew, pew."

"NOOOOO!"  He shouted as he started jumping up and down on the spot, "FIRE!!!"

We instantly sprang into action, my wife yanking the charred pipe cleaner from the power outlet, ensuring nothing was actually burning beyond that, and checking our son for any signs of serious injury.  As we calmed him down and stepped back to examine things, we realized he had recreated the entire Clocktower scene, with remarkable accuracy.  As lightning bolts are in such short supply, he decided to make do with a power outlet and a modified pipe cleaner.  Sure, he nearly burned the house down, but how else are you supposed to get that much juice into a flux capacitor?!