What Does Santa Want for Christmas?

There are many, many times throughout the course of a day that I throw my head in my hands and wonder what I’m doing wrong as a parent. Why has Savannah racked up a solid three tantrums before 10:00 AM? Is it because she wants attention? Is it because she’s getting too much attention? Is it because it’s thirty degrees outside and the child just needs to get out of the house so I can sit and breathe and remind myself that I love the little devil? (Because, you know, it couldn’t possibly be that she’s two. That would be far too … simple.)

Everyday I feel like I’m performing a surgery without a medical degree. I have no freaking clue what I’m doing and let me tell you, it’s evident in the frequent use of our timeout corner, in the amount of dog food Molly’s consumed since birth, and in how many times “please just quit asking questions!” echoes throughout our house on any given afternoon.

But every once in awhile there’s this unexpected twinkle of parenting success, this brilliant moment of “hey, I’ve got this!” that makes me think the patient, despite the crooked incisions exposing my lack of preparation and knowledge, might actually survive. I had one of those moments a few weeks ago and I’d like to share it with you here.

Like many families, we begin talking about and preparing for Christmas far earlier than we should. We try to wait to put the tree up until after Thanksgiving and we most definitely are not of the Black Friday variety, but we start talking about Santa and his goodies the minute winter coats become necessary (which can be anywhere from October to December in Iowa). So it wasn’t unusual that we found ourselves – admittedly prematurely – writing Christmas lists a few weeks ago.

Savannah’s tiny fingers eagerly gripped a hot pink sparkle crayon, her wide brown eyes dancing with holiday giddiness.

“And then,” I said, after a lengthy description of how Santa’s system operates, “after you write down everything you want, you send your list to the North Pole where the elves make all the toys.”

Her beaming smile rapidly fizzled into a concerned look of consternation. I watched as her precocious thoughts worked to untangle themselves in her busy brain. Her forehead, as it so often does, wrinkled in worry; my logic was missing a link.

“Well,” she said matter-of-factly, setting her crayon carefully on the table, “what does Santa want for Christmas?”

See? Parenting win. What kid thinks of Santa’s wish list during the holidays? Only the most awesome, thoughtful kid in the universe. Mine, of course. And here’s the even better part – the only thing Santa wants for Christmas is for you to ask him that very question (and perhaps a bottle of wine and some new novels, but who’s keeping track, right?).

Of course, I wouldn’t want you to think that this small exchange actually put me in the running for Parent of the Year so you also need to know that after posing such a remarkably gallant question, my darling two-year-old put that glitter crayon to paper and proceeded to write (and when I say “write” I mean “demandingly narrate”) a six-page Christmas list detailing all of her most crucial two-year-old toy needs.

Ah, well.