Lately I’ve heard a lot of my friends with older kids complaining that their kids are starting to question the whole Santa Claus thing. Ordinarily I’d be like you suck because your kids are out of diapers and go to school all day so WTH are you complaining about, but in the spirit of the holidays, Merry Christmas, and don’t say I never got you anything. Here’s a little something to share with your doubting hooligans:
Dear kid who’s starting to doubt the whole Santa Claus thing,
WTF are you thinking?! I mean, sure I get it. You’re all cool and savvy and think you know more than your lame-ass parents because you can text with both hands behind your back and know what ROFLMAO means. But before you make any sudden moves, let’s step back and think about this rationally.
You have two choices here. You can kick this whole Santa crap myth to the curb and break your parents’ hearts, orrrrrrrr you can milk it for all it’s worth. Let’s see what happens with each of these options.
- Sayonara Santa: So you know that badass dirt bike you want for the holidays (or whatever the F it is kids want these days)? Go ahead, ask your parents for it. And watch how F’ing easy it is for them to say it’s too expensive or you’ll crack your head open. I don’t care how many times you say pretty please, you can pretty much kiss that two-wheeled dream of yours goodbye. Because now the gift is coming from them and not some mythical Godlike chubster who has unlimited funds and elves to make all that shit.
- Milk it, baby, milk it: Dear Santa Claus, All year long I’ve been the best boy I could possibly be. Yes, sometimes I didn’t listen to my Mommy and Daddy but I feel so bad about that and I promise to be better next year. They say all they want is for me to be happy, so I hope you can buy me a dirt bike because it’s the only thing I want in the whole wide world. Oh, and a helmet so I can always ride safely. Love, Billy.
I’d like to see Mom and Pop shut that sentimental shit down. They’ll be so blind from tearing up, they might even buy you a Harley by mistake.
And you don’t have to stop there. If you can motivate your ass, maybe you can even start some new myth that will get you some other good stuff. Say something like, “Hey Mom, did you ever hear about the St. Patty’s Day Leprechaun (thank you spell check!) who goes to kids’ houses and leaves gold coins on the mantle? We’re like the only family who doesn’t do it.”
And you know what, I’ll bet your bottom dollar the second you leave the house your mom is jumping on the internet to see where she can get gold coins. Amazon? Ebay? It’s like that F’ing Elf on a Shelf. Your mom heard someone else was doing it and she was all like, “I gotta go get our family one of those creepy elf guys so I’m not outdone by the Joneses!”
Capiche? Good. Mom and Dad are happy. You’re happy. It’s a win-win.
Nope, still believing in Santa by the time you’re a teenager doesn’t make you a loser. It makes you F’ing brilliant.