A-Parently: Schmoozing Santa

"Mom, want me to take out the trash?"

"Hey Dad, made my bed!"

"We're going to sit here with the shovels in case it snows. Don't want Gramps to slip on the sidewalk."

Santa's the man. Wildly successful entrepreneur, works one night a year, is great with animals and never sweats whether to have a fourth cheeseburger.

He keeps kids in the red-velvet palm of his mittened fist, laughing all the way, as we mortal parents deal with the mayhem of the holiday season — and are thankful for a little extra enforcement in behavior modification.

Sure, the crass ramping up of Christmas commerce bludgeons kids and grown-ups from Labor Day through the "trade-those-crappy-gifts-for-something-your-really-want-hurry-offers-good through-President's-Day-Sales. With any luck (or perhaps a bit of denial), we’ve all grown immune to it. Of course, there always will be the freaks who can’t wait to shake off the tryptophan-tastic coma of Thanksgiving to duke it out with other rabid retail-crazy nuts racing to redeem their 10 percent coupon for a faux-fur Rachel Ray fondue pot and we will just have to live with it.

We have a generation or two of parents who are rushing their kids through childhood like it’s a silly detour on the way to full-blown maturity by the time they turn 10. Religion’s never been your cup of tea? Had too many disappointments to ever believe any Being is out there with our best interest at heart? Recovering Catholic who’s scarred by the failings and hypocrisy of the people running the Church, or even worse, a victim of abuse? I get it and respect your right to opt out.

But as parents, don't we have an obligation to let our kids witness a life of faith? Regardless of the faith we're born into, we should at least give our children an indoctrination, free of whatever baggage we carry from our experiences with religion, so that they can make fully formed decisions about the religion-faith connection when they grow up. We have the chance to use the season of naughty-or-nice not as a guilt trip but as support for civility and fun. Just as anyone delivering to children the religious message of Christmas, providing our little ones with the freedom to take a flight of fancy with the globe-trotting man in red and his reindeer-led sleigh is kid stuff.

Our two sons, Zach and Luke, delivered their letters to Santa, full of hopeful expectation and lessons for Paula and me. We separate them in an attempt to avoid collusion on any presents that could give Santa a hernia or require that he take out a home-equity loan on the workshop:

A)   Spell-check on the computer is ruining spell-check in childrens’ brains,

B)   They came up with a plan before they were sequestered,

C)   They’re skilled at the art of negotiation,

D)  Steve Jobs would be proud of his team’s marketing prowess, and

E)   They still like being kids

They each delivered a near-identical “you’ve got to give to get” defense with an opening of “I hope that you liked the cookies we gave you (we also hope your raindear liked the carrots we gave them too).”  Luke, at 9, also closed with “Your No. 1 Fan”. Nice touch, kid. That might even allow me to forgive his plea that Santa give him an Aaron Rodgers’ jersey. Green Bay Packers’ gear, under this roof? Sacrilege!

Zach, a seventh-grader, delivers his letter with a wink. He is a great big brother who never belittles Luke’s ruminations on all things North Pole. That could account for why he believes that it is time to replace his two-year-old iTouch or thinks that an iPad would be a great thing to find under the evergreen. He has just enough big kid in him to need big-boy things, but enough little kid — and belief — in him to accept all the miracles of the season.

Meanwhile, as Zach hands me a couple of Oreos and Luke gives his mom a back rub, Paula and I will enjoy a few Christmas miracles ourselves.