G seemed to be interested in the idea of Santa, not so much Santa himself. In his eyes, Santa is some scumbag in a red suit plying kids with candy so they'll sit on his lap. While the boy has become increasingly interested in candy, he cannot be duped to talk to strangers just because he's got a white beard and a candy cane, and promises to bring presents. There were Santa encounters, of course. You couldn't go anywhere in the month of December without seeing the fat man. Luckily for me, G had no interest in standing in line to come any where near the old coot. For this I am grateful. Instead, during one even in particular where there was a line out the door to see the old "S" word, G told me he didn't want to see him, talk to him, or sit on his lap. We lurked just outside of where Santa was sitting and peered in a giant picture window and watched as kid after kid climbed up on his lap. I told him, even though he wasn't face to face with the fat man, he could still tell him what he wanted for Christmas and he would hear anyway because he's magic. This sweet boy of mine said Santa, I don't want anything for Christmas. Shit, I sure wish "Santa" would have known that before he went crazy trying to find the perfect items for the boy.
Admittedly, I was probably more excited for Christmas morning that anyone. I had big plans for the boy to leave out carrots for "Santa's Reindeer", we'd leave out some of the ugly ass cookies we made right before the holiday, and a sip of milk. I'd make sure to leave evidence of Santa's presence, with the carrots being gone, a bite out of a cookie, you know, the same old song and dance. However, the boy just wanted to party his ass off on Christmas Eve, we didn't get home until way past his bedtime and he needed/wanted to go to bed as soon as we walked in. Okay, no problem. I still crept up and down the stairs as he slept, placing all his presents under the tree, trying to contain my excitement for the next morning when he would open all the carefully thought out gifts that Santa got him.
And, you know what? When it came down to it, he could have really cared less about the whole affair. For weeks we talked about Santa coming and leaving presents under his tree because he was such a good boy, and he genuinely seemed stoked about it. He did "Face Time" with one of his lady birds Christmas morning who wanted to see him open the gifts she got him. He point blank told her, "I don't want to open your presents." Great, I've got a 2 year old Grinch on my hands. He came around eventually, of course, but this kid needed some serious convincing. Some of the things I thought he would go totally ape-shit over, he just gave a passing glance and moved on to the next. Way to leave Santa crestfallen, boy. However, there are a few items that seem to be his new pride and joy, the cheap drum set for kids, which, I've quickly discovered that I'll need to start socking some cash away for real drums, because this boy has a passion, and his Paw Patrol truck and cars. To be fair, the boy really packed it in this Christmas, with so many different things. I'm sure he's overwhelmed, and like his mother, can only concentrate on a thing or two at a time.
Overall, it was a successful holiday. Despite me making him weep because I made him come home with me Christmas Eve instead of spending the night with grandma and papa, and then making him weep again on leftovers day, because he had to come home with me again. Maybe I smell funny? His social anxiety was also slightly present Christmas Eve as he preferred to retreat to the basement away from the rip-roaring party crowd, but there were no meltdowns from being overwhelmed, score!
Sure, I can reminisce about Christmas' past where the hooch was a staple and crayfish were talking at the dinner table, but honestly, I enjoy having G around to spend the holidays with, as cliche as it is, the boy might have brought back the magic feeling of Christmas.
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