Thursday, December 08, 2005

The story of how my heart was broken

When I picked my darling daughter up from school on Monday, I was handed a letter to Santa that she had worked on. Her teacher told me she didn't want to write a letter, but apparently she was talked into it, as the little paper tied with ribbon indicated.

In the car, I was told by a nearly-in-tears Ella that I wasn't to read the letter. "That's alright Sweetie. We can just leave it out for Santa on Christmas Eve." Oh no! The thought of this upset her more! Santa was not to read the letter, I was not to read the letter. NO ONE WAS TO READ THIS LETTER, and it was to remain on the floor of our van for eternity!* Okay then. I dropped the subject.

I'll skip ahead a bit, just saying that her father and I, with some careful, gentle prodding, finally got to the root of the problem come bedtime. This poor angel-girl of mine does not want to celebrate Christmas! No going to see Grandma, no presents or stockings or carols.

"Why in the world is that?" I hear you asking. Well I'll tell you.

Gabriella heard through the grapevine (the grapevine in this case being those loveable claymation Christmas classics we all grew up with) that Santa has a naughty list, and that naughtly little children get coal. My precious baby thinks that SHE is on the naughty list!

*queue the sound of shattering glass (symbolizing my heart) crumbing to the floor*

I literally weep at the thought of Gabriella - the sweetest little girl to ever grace this Earth - sitting and worrying about being on the naughty list. She actually thinks that she will wake up Christmas morning to find her stocking filled with coal.

Well of course I told her how all little children, and grown-ups too, do naughty things once an a while, but that doesn't mean they are naughty. I told her I was sure she was on the good list - how could she not be? She is the best little girl I know! This, along with a funny story of her naughty, naughty mommy as a child**, seemed to help the matter somewhat, and she went to sleep.

Luckily, her ever-resourceful Daddy was able to seal the deal when he came home from work the next day with the information she was seeking. You see, apparently "the big guy" rides the same bus as Bubblehead. (We were told he teaches a toy making course at the community college. Is there no end to his surprizes?) Anyway, Bubblehead couldn't let such an opportunity pass him by, so he just asked him right out if Gabriella is on the good list. Thankfully, she is indeed, which I think has put an end to her worries, and to her mommy's heartache.

Of course she is such a smart girl - the thought has crossed our minds that all of this was just a ploy to get a few extra gifts beneath the tree come the 25th. ;)

*Yes, of course we did read the letter, although we did not tell her that we did. Being concerned, caring parents, it is our job to snoop when we feel it might help us solve a problem. There was nothing unordinary in the letter, although it was a bit silly. I won't reprint it here, to respect her wishes that NO ONE ON THIS EARTH read that letter.

**There is only one story of her mommy being a naughty little girl, because I was ALWAYS (save this one time) well-behaved and good.
Name: Christine
Location: Wyoming, United States
I'm the Mom of two. They drive me crazy. I love them dearly. I want one more. I'm not insane, yet. My hubby says I'm a snob with an inferiority complex. There is more to me than being a mother. I just don't remember any of it.

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