Oh, What Fun

The school Hanukkah, I mean, holiday party.

Watiting for Santa at the church Christmas party.

The sparkly dress-up shoes Santa brought Charlotte.

Sitting on Santa's lap.

Santa's trip through the neighborhood!

Waving at Santa!



It’s such a cliché, but seeing Christmas through a kiddo’s eyes is one of the best things. Ever.

My time to write this blog has occurred only in bitsy increments, which means it took many days to compose, but it also means that I kept finding things to add to it as we got, as Charlotte would say, “closer and CLOSER!!!” to Christmas. Hence, ‘tis a long one.

So, Christmas. Via children. Oh, what fun.

At our house, I’ve tried to explain the whole Santa Claus thing to Charlotte. She rightly observed, “Santa has a BIG tummy!” and, when pointing at a Santa tree ornament in which Santa has a green present, I asked her who Santa’s gift was for. She paused, looked thoughtful, then decisively said, “Papa.”

A few days later, I asked Charlotte if she was excited for Santa to come to our house. She responded, “I want Papa and Nana to come instead.”

Awwww, right? But of course I pushed the Santa thing, appealing to the mercenary, materialistic aspect of toddlerhood. “When Santa comes, he’ll leave you presents!”

Charlotte looked straight at me. “Papa and Nana bring presents too.”

Oh. Right.

Now, all Santa education has had to come from us, as her school, consisting of a significant Jewish population, integrates Hanukkah into daily lessons and activities, but Christmas is, to my knowledge, mostly absent. The Hanukkah focus appears to be parent-led, as Charlotte’s friends’ parents bring in Hanukkah coloring sheets, dreidels, and such for the class. We, on the other hand, are too lazy to bring in anything Christmas-based, and really, we’d have to choose between the secular and the sacred. As for secular, what’s the point? As for sacred, well, I’m guessing a lesson on the birth of the messiah would tick off SOMEBODY. Me, I’m totally fine with menorahs and dreidels. I mean, these poor Jewish kids have a lifetime of constant Christmas music, decorated trees, and Santa paraphernalia ahead of them. And honestly, I’m just glad to see something with a whiff of the religious occurring at Charlotte’s (admittedly private) school. It suggests family, tradition, culture, and, well, something bigger than oneself.

Of course, at church, we’re allowed to say “Merry Christmas” without fear of giving great offense, and fresh holly and evergreens decorate the sanctuary. But I have to admit that I was surprised to learn that Santa would be making a visit to the church Christmas party. Frankly, I can see an argument against it, but the kids love it and count on his visit each year. What’s the harm, really?

So, before the party, a mommy-selected and wrapped gift was snuck into Santa’s bag. One of the adults shouted that Santa was on his way, and the kids ran to the windows that line the outside walkway, their faces plastered against the glass for a glimpse of him. Finally, the kids caught sight of the red suit. Charlotte was so excited, she started vibrating and twirling. When Santa actually entered the hall, Charlotte panicked and ran to Daddy, but goodness, she also SO wanted to hang with Santa. One of the moms sweetly took Charlotte by the hand and led her to the little semi-circle where the children sat in Santa-adoring expectation.

Santa sat on what appeared to be a throne, facing the little ones. He took out the first gift, reading the tag. A super cute kindergartener jumped up to get her present. Charlotte’s eyes widened. The whole Santa–presents thing instantly connected in her brain.

Santa then pulled out the second gift—wrapped in Cinderella paper, with sparkly silver ribbon. “Charlotte!” Santa declared. And with an enormous grin, she received her gift and proceeded to show it to the other kids.

Charlotte opened her gift, which revealed a pair of light-up Cinderella dress-up shoes. Joyfully, Charlotte ripped off her boring everyday shoes, and put the glass(like) slippers on. They were a bit too big, as Mommy, I mean, Santa, wanted them to last for longer than a week, and Charlotte oh so proudly click-clacked click-clacked around the hall, showing her shoes to every single person there, each of whom made a very sweet big deal out of them.

Charlotte, who is mighty wary of strangers, was then invited to sit on Santa’s lap. Chris and I figured she’d balk and freak out, per usual, so imagine our surprise when she raced over to Santa, happily got hoisted onto his lap, and waved at Daddy’s phone for a picture.

Clearly, the way to this girl’s heart is through a sparkly set of shoes.

Next, Charlotte got to watch Brave with the big kids in another room. Again, we underestimated her, assuming she’d refuse to part with us, leaving us juggling TWO kids for the adults’ gift exchange. But again, she surprised us, finding a good spot and joyfully consuming a container of popcorn. As the movie started (I stayed with her a couple minutes to make sure she’d be okay), Charlotte kept shouting what she saw on the screen. I realized that she had never, ever before watched a movie—with other people who really wanted to watch the movie. Thus, she had her first lesson in staying quiet during movies. She just had so much fun that night—it was adorable to watch.

Then, a couple days ago, my sister-in-law, Christine, and I got a not-through-Charlotte’s-eyes glimpse of childish Christmas glee when we delivered an SUV full of brightly wrapped gifts to a family on behalf of our church. The family consisted of an 8-year-old boy and a 6-year-old girl. As gifts were brought in, their eyes grew to the size of saucers. I mean, it was a very, very large load of gifts—my mom had even managed to giftwrap a play kitchen for the little girl (I was too inept, so I delegated that task). So, imagine a kid’s excitement when this monstrously huge present gets shoved through her dilapidated doorway, along with oodles of other gifts?

As the door closed behind us and Christine and I waltzed down the sidewalk, full of Christmas warm fuzzies, we heard the kids screaming—joyfully—from their home. And we cracked up. They were SO excited. So freaking excited. As Christine pointed out, yeah, it was A LOT of gifts the church budgeted for these kids (and mom)—arguably excessive and embodying that icky excessiveness the holidays can elicit—but this was probably the only loot they’d receive all year. A young, single, immigrant working mom with two young children—I highly doubted these cute kiddos had relatives and family friends aplenty to shower them with yuletide joy. I got the feeling it was the three of them against the world, and here, a bit of excess translated to sheer giddiness. You know?

Of course, hearing those happy screams reinforced my belief that all children fundamentally love the receiving gifts aspect of Christmas the most, no matter how much they’re reminded that “Jesus Is the Reason for the Season.” I mean, let’s be honest here.

Finally, I have to say that we live in the greatest town EVER. Like last year, Santa made his trip through the neighborhood in a festively decked out fire engine, Christmas music BLASTING, as Santa tossed candy canes to the children. My dad carried Charlotte out to watch, and my brother, Christine, and Chris ran out to see like little kids. (I watched from the front step, having been tied up with Lorelei beforehand.)
Joy. And not just for Charlotte (and the big kids pushing 30) but also for the neighborhood kids dotting the sidewalks up and down the street.

About an hour later, as I was reading Charlotte her bedtime story, the doorbell rang. Chris hollered for me but wouldn’t tell me why I was needed. I assumed it was UPS and that he or someone else could handle it, and since he wouldn’t answer my “WHAT?!” I kept reading to Charlotte. Then I heard a group singing from downstairs. Carolers!

Real! Live! Carolers!

“Charlotte, come on!” I said. Looking at me with excited, big brown eyes, she immediately caught on that something SPECIAL was happening and, for the first time ever, didn’t waste time asking WHY. She scrambled off the bed and I whisked her to the stairs. Halfway down, Chris grabbed her to give her a spot front and center, and my whole family—all nine of us—listened to the carolers sing “Go Tell It on the Mountain,” “Silent Night,” and “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.”

Best. Town. Ever.

Charlotte, meanwhile, took everything in, her eyes even more sparkly than usual.

Christmas through a child’s eyes. Oh. What. Fun!