You better watch out.
You better not cry.
Better not pout.
I’m telling you why. Santa Claus is coming to town.
Oh yeah? I’d “better not”, huh? Sounds a little like a dare to me. Heck, I’ve been nice all year. Now that you mention it, I’m due for a little naughty. It’s not easy controlling all those impulses, you know. But I do. For the most part. Well, I did. Until now. But it’s not my fault. You dared me. You threatened no presents. Said you’d tell that creepy plastic elf who keeps forgetting to move around the house. I’m not buying it. So I’m going all out. All out crr-azzzy. But don’t blame me, you asked for it.
So I may be a tiny bit off, but I’m close. Those are the thoughts going through my kids’ heads at this very moment. How do I know? I spent the day with them. A day which included a singing, dancing show turned screaming, kicking fit in the middle of an otherwise silent (yet crowded) post office. And I spent last Christmas season with them too. (But I was smart enough to avoid the post office, I guess.)
Yes, this is the time of year when everyone is supposed to be jolly—on our best behavior. But the pressure. Is. Just. Too. Much.
And I get it. Because I’m not much better. Today I didn’t watch out. I cried. I pouted. I shouted. I sassed back. I snuck a piece of candy (or two). Drank a glass of wine (or two). I did not make Santa proud. Assuming he made his lists tonight, I know which one I’m on.
So, Santa, bring me coal if you must. Rumor has it, under tremendous force, a piece of coal becomes a diamond. And this season’s packed with enough pressure to make me one sparkly lady.
Do you and your family crack under the holiday pressure or glow in the beauty of the season?