I suppose it’s time to tell you some important news. We are a family of five. I don’t know why I didn’t share this earlier, please forgive me. Now it’s time. Please meet the smallest member of our household.
Santa. Santa? Oh, yes.
This is the story about how Santa came to stay. Long, long ago, in the days of Christmas 2010, we made a trip to purchase a couple new ornaments for our tree. Since two years olds are all aware of the world and full of opinions, we decided to let the boy pick out his favorite. He chose a wooden Santa on a train, big shocker. Boys and trains.
Weeks went by and he admired the tree and obeyed the no touching rule. Then in his act of rebellion, against the beast of death that is a Minnesota winter, he figured out he could touch the tree. He also learned that he could throw things at the tree and they would fall through to the floor. Next, he went all in and started taking ornaments off the tree. Awesome sauce. Well, one day it was snowing, can you even believe that, and he set his eyes on the Santa express. Down came the train and during the fall, Santa abandoned ship, in efforts to save himself, I can only guess. I set Mr. Claus aside and intended to glue him back, returning him to his position as conductor. I never did. The boy found him on the counter and wanted to play.
And for six months, Kris Kringle has been H’s roommate. Most days he rides around in his shiny car, and as he foolishly doesn’t wear a seatbelt, he falls out often (at least 100 times a day), which prompts, “Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Do?? Do?” It’s tragic and serious. Sometimes, he rides in the bus of all things collected (another time) and hides in bags, under pillows, in deep corners of the toy wagon, under beds, anywhere he pleases. When he appears to be missing, the sweet blue eyed-wonder gets this look in his eyes and we know he’s searching for his beloved Santa. Being a parent requires great investigative skills. I’ve always wanted to be an FBI agent.
Every single time, we find that sneaky little jolly man in the red suit and we laugh because he’s like an inch tall and hasn’t been lost yet. He’s always around, and that boy, he loves that silly little bit of painted wood.
It’s an unlikely friendship, but H is a good pal, because he keeps records of all his toys. Actually, we’ve only lost one toy ever, not counting the loud noisy ones that mysteriously disappear. I don’t know, I’ll never tell.
Oh hey, Santa just had a collision with the tractor.