And then there is me. I concoct the most elaborate lies to further my children's belief in Santa. When they realize there is no Santa, they will hate me. They may even need counseling. Until, one day, they have kids of their own (God help us all), at which point they will hopefully understand.
I have to say, my lies started out innocently enough, same as most parents. Santa is a kind old man who lives at the North Pole (please, Mikie, don't look at a map and realize that their is no land mass in the Arctic Ocean). The whole point of my lie being to bring some magic into my child's life. . .Then, my child hit the terrible-two's. . . at around 18 months. And, the terrible-two's turned into the even-more-terrible-threes (which no one tells you about before you actually have children). Around the same time, I began to use Santa as a scare tactic. "Do you think Santa would approve of this behaviour?" "Are you being naughty or nice?" "Do you realize it is only three days until Christmas which is still plenty of time for Santa to decide NOT to come to our house?" I convinced Mikie that Santa had given me his phone number to report back to him about Mikie's behaviour. I even CALLED Santa one night from Target during a meltdown (boy did that backfire. . . everyone in Target looked at me like I was an ogre while my child begged me to call Santa back). . .
But I digress. This year, Mikie made out his list for Santa (which I now use as an educational tool to force him to practice writing and spelling). In addition to just about every Lego set on the planet, Mikie (for the second year in a row) had listed the Lego Death Star.
Now, for those of you who don't follow Lego, the Death Star is a $400 Lego set. And, "Santa" (meaning me) did not want to spend $400 on one toy. Because, I can honestly say that would have been the only toy under the tree. But, how do you tell a child that Santa isn't going to bring them the one toy they really want?
Enter the big lie for 2010: "Lego's are patented, so Santa can't make them at his workshop in the North Pole. He has to go to the Lego store and buy them like everyone else. And, can you imagine how much money it would cost him if he bought every kid who loved Lego's all the Lego sets they wanted? If he bought you it, he wouldn't be able to bring you any other toys. Do you really want only one toy under the Christmas tree? Or would you rather have a lot of other toys?"
The lie worked. Mikie chose having more than one toy on Christmas morning. And, maybe due to guilt, maybe due to a desire to give my child everything his heart desires, I began my campaign for a Death Star. Mike and I convinced our families to chip in whatever amount they were going to spend on Mikie into one pool; we would make up the difference (if any) to get Mikie the Death Star from his family. The result was epic (especially since he wasn't expecting it). You can view the video here.
Evidently, getting the coolest Lego set produces a rush of testosterone, turning a child into the Incredible Hulk, because I swear that Lego set weighted at least 20 pounds. I had to have the store associate carry it to my car (since it is hard to carry a large, awkwardly sized, 20-lb box and push a stroller with an equally heavy toddler).
We also chronicled the construction of the Death Star, which was not nearly as bad as Mike expected. To view the photos, click here.
I do have to say, having worked on the construction, the engineers at Lego are both brilliant and creative. They have captured every detail of those movies in this set and made it operational. And, they have an incredible sense of humour. If you don't believe me, check out Lego.com. In addition to their online catalog, they have games and movies. The Lego Star Wars movies continue to entertain me (yes, I admit, me, not Mikie). My favorite one is a plot summary of Episode 4 entitled "May the 4th Be With You".
Merry Christmas.
Love, The Trahans
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