Post-Holiday Reflections

This is the first Christmas in which Mr. C has been old enough to partake.  It's really the perfect age: he enjoyed the Christmas lights, knew to get a little excited when that "Sanna Cause" was mentioned again, had a great time ripping up wrapping paper, but was still too young to fully grasp the concept of Christmas.  Hence, I did not feel the pressure to get him a bunch of gifts.

I took him to see Santa Clause at the bookstore a few weeks ago, and -- I am proud to report -- he did not cry.  Of course, he wasn't exactly happy about it, either.  He sat quietly on Santa's lap and kept to himself; our photo memorabilia came out looking like a twisted version of American Gothic, with Santa and Mr. C looking impassively straight ahead.  All they needed was a pitchfork.

It's like when we took him trick-or-treating
this year, his first time ever.  He didn't understand what Halloween was supposed to signify: he just liked finally being allowed to ring strangers' doorbells and transfer goodies from their bowls to his basket.  Bee and S.B. and I were the ones who really enjoyed it, since we knew we'd be stealing all his good candy later.  We gleefully pushed Mr. C from house to house, long past the point in which he was begging to go home, as we did our best to distract the homeowners so Mr. C could repeatedly plunder their candy bowls.    


When they say that these special occasions are for kids, they really don't mean toddlers.  Which is why it's so great to be the parent of a two year-old: you get to participate in all the good kids' activities and take all the best stuff for yourself.  Your kid doesn't care, anyway.

I figure I have another year before he'll really get it: when he'll be more excited about the reindeer craft he made than I am, and when he understands that most American holidays involve junk food or gifts.  Or both.  I have one more year where I can enjoy celebrating a holiday enough to get the goodies and get in touch with my inner-child, but not have to knock myself out to make it 'special' for Mr. C.

So, as the new year begins, I will be happily looking forward to Valentine's Day and Easter so I can indulge in making paper hearts and hiding colored eggs.  By that time next year, Mr. C will know enough to ask who the hell ate the chocolate bunny his grandparents sent.