The First Noel

This will be Version 1.0’s first Christmas. Well, the first one that she will remember and the first where she will kind of get what’s going on. I bought her a bunch of books and movies about Christmas so she can become brainwashed familiar with all the icons and imagery, stories and traditions that accompany our happiest time of the year.

So far, she has embraced it all willingly and has become quite proficient at naming all the associated niceties, such as reindeer and Christmas trees, snowmen and stockings, and Santa. Oh yes, Santa.

I am not entirely sure what Santa represents to her yet, other than possibly a man in a funny “cupping” (costume, a word left over from Halloween). She watches Dora and Boots opening presents after Santa visits, and reads stories of him making red underwear with his elves. Oh, actually, that’s the story from Daddy’s book.. uh, I think her Santa makes trains.

Regardless, she’s seen him and points him out gleefully in the store and in her books and on TV and when the neighbourhood drunk is stumbling home in the wee hours.

However, yesterday my parents came to visit and brought her a little Santa decoration with a sack, thinking she would like to put things in it (like Daddy) and carry him around. Well, for some reason, she is absolutely petrified of him. She doesn’t exactly cry when she sees him, but she gives him this very sharp sidelong glance and will heed him a wide berth in order to not get within range of whatever evil charms he seems to be emitting to her.

I tried to get her to touch him, and even hijacked some of her toys and ‘baby oranges’ (mandarins) and put them in his sack to see what she would do. Apparently, after much consideration, she’s willing to sacrifice the toys rather than touch Santa.

What ever is it that puts the fear of all things holy in her mind when she looks at Santa, I don’t understand. She’s not a winge-y kid and usually is quick to pick up anything, but I am reminded every now and then that those neuro-receptors (my own word, just call me ‘Doctor’) are still young and may be misfiring on some of the basics, like Santa being a stuffed, inanimate object (with particularly beady eyes).