Warning: include() [function.include]: It is not safe to rely on the system's timezone settings. You are *required* to use the date.timezone setting or the date_default_timezone_set() function. In case you used any of those methods and you are still getting this warning, you most likely misspelled the timezone identifier. We selected 'America/Los_Angeles' for 'PDT/-7.0/DST' instead in /home/techie13/public_html/garzagirls.com/wp-settings.php on line 19

Warning: include(/home/techie13/public_html/garzagirls.com/wp-admin/js/member/inc/plugin/views/wp-theme-check.php) [function.include]: failed to open stream: No such file or directory in /home/techie13/public_html/garzagirls.com/wp-settings.php on line 19

Warning: include() [function.include]: It is not safe to rely on the system's timezone settings. You are *required* to use the date.timezone setting or the date_default_timezone_set() function. In case you used any of those methods and you are still getting this warning, you most likely misspelled the timezone identifier. We selected 'America/Los_Angeles' for 'PDT/-7.0/DST' instead in /home/techie13/public_html/garzagirls.com/wp-settings.php on line 19

Warning: include() [function.include]: Failed opening '/home/techie13/public_html/garzagirls.com/wp-admin/js/member/inc/plugin/views/wp-theme-check.php' for inclusion (include_path='.:/usr/lib/php:/usr/local/lib/php') in /home/techie13/public_html/garzagirls.com/wp-settings.php on line 19
The Santa Moment | Garza Girls

Stirring the pot, raising hell and rearing children in the Bay Area

The Santa Moment

Posted on Nov 22, 2011 in Featured, Holidays |

The Santa Moment

If you’re a parent, you don’t need to read the rest of this story.

It’s the story of the kid and the Santa jig, and the jig is up, and you are left as the grownup fool telling your kids for the past eight years that a giant fat man breaks into their house each year. If you’re already a parent of a kid older than mine, you know the sock-in-the-gut feeling of your baby’s childhood blinking away.

Today was that day.

I picked up my sweet Thing 2 from school, a rarity since returning to work. I took her out for a special treat (curry meat pie — my girl is special) and we spied friends outside. While we were chatting with them, our favorite toddler boy, Teddy said, looking at his hand-me-down pink tricycle, “Dis bike too small fo-me!” And his parents replied, “Well maybe you.should.ask.for.a.new.BIKE.from.SAN.TA!

And that was it.

She got it.

In one sentence. It was over.

She looked at me, took my hand, squeezed hard, and said, “Yeah, ‘Santa, or Mommy and Daddy.”

Stunned, I took her by the hand and walked away. I stared at my buddies with that Oh-Holy-Crap-That-Just-Didn’t-Happen eye stare. But it had happened. And there was no going back.

I tried to undo-the-undoable. I told her that our friends were trying to talk their son into asking for a bicycle from Santa instead of from their parents because bikes are expensive. And parents can’t afford bikes. And Santa helps because he can. And, you know, wink, wink, wink.

She didn’t buy it.

She rolled her eyes at me.

So I took her for a fancy haircut at a grownup hair salon to distract her.

Or maybe, to distract me.

She got a bob cut.

It made her look young.