irielife.net

We had an interesting day
yesterday and realized, yet again, that each child Heavenly Father has blessed
us with is highly unique, each in his/her own lovable way.  To
wit:

We went to a ward Christmas party last night. Santa made an
appearance and each kid got to sit on his lap.

Allie:
Allie has
wanted to send a letter to Santa but has been concerned about how to approach
such a task because she “doesn’t want to seem selfish” by presenting Santa with
a list of things that she would like him to give her.  She finally made
peace with sending a letter by altering the traditional tack taken by most
kids.  It is a sweet letter, comprised primarily of statements that begin
with “I like….”.  She was much more comfortable letting Santa know what
kinds of things she likes to do and then allowing Santa to exercise his agency
on her behalf.

At the Christmas party, she sat on Santa’s lap and when
asked what she wanted (so now it was okay to directly state her wish vs. the
letter, which even if traditional, was, as Allie intuited, essentially
unsolicited) she replied: “A book of historical
fiction”.

Camryn:
No letter to Santa.  Surprising given
that when your tether is so long,  I would assume that there would be more
of an esprit de corps with magical beings that would include the
traditional letter writing.  As you’ll see, the letter is probably not
necessary.  Camryn has no problem making her wishes known.

At the
Christmas party, Camryn sat on Santa’s lap and was in charge from the
get-go.

Santa: What would you like for
Christmas?
Camryn: I would like Ballerina Barbie.  It costs
eleven dollars.  I have eleven dollars.  But I don’t want to spend my
eleven dollars on Ballerina Barbie.  I would like Santa to spend eleven
dollars and bring me Ballerina Barbie.

The poor elder in our ward had no
idea how to respond.  I think 4 year olds have an insight into economics
that would make Adam Smith proud.  If Santa has a comparative advantage in
generosity which has preserved him as a going concern through the centuries, then
why not take advantage of this comparative advantage and let him give?  It
is in Camryn’s best interest to apply her resources, which are so limited,
elsewhere.  Her comparative advantage is certainly not Santa’s.  Maybe
free trade would not be such a frightful thing to Democrats if they let a four
year old run the party.  A 4-year old certainly couldn’t do any more damage
than that already being done by McCauliffe and the Nine Angry
Dwarfs.

Seth:
He screamed like someone passing 2 kidney stones
simultaneously and without morphine.  He does not like fat jolly hairy men,
even if they do pass out chocolate.

The Aftermath
At
this same party, some thoughtless person apparently mentioned within earshot of
Camryn that this was not the real Santa.  Camryn appears to have
ruminated on this for most of the evening.  She seemed kind of pleased to
have this nugget of information that she could wield over the more naive members
of her family.  On the way home, just as Allie, whose faith is as pure as
the snow is white, was talking excitedly about asking Santa Claus for a book of
historical fiction, Camryn yells “That was not the real Santa.  It was just
some guy dressed up”.

From the front seat: Silence.  This
wasn’t in the parenting manual we never got.

After a pregnant
pause, Susie did some masterful work reconciling Camryn’s information with
Allie’s pure faith.  We settled on the fact that Santa cannot be at every
ward and social function and so he has representatives (elfs) who help him
out.  We had to be careful — if we led Allie too far down the path of
reconciliation, we knew we were powerless before her logic and reasoning
capabilities.  Again, kudos to Susie.

Later that night, we
knelt for their personal and our family prayers.  Allie expressed gratitude
that she got to see Santa.  Camryn waited politely until her prayer was
finished and then gravely reprimanded Allie, reminding her that it was not Santa
per se. I felt the need to get Allie’s back, so when I said family
prayer I chided Camryn a bit by thanking Heavenly Father that the kids got
to see Santa.  Well, it would appear that there are but a few things that
Camryn knows with absolute certainty and  she is not about to cede any
ground to anyone on these issues.  The prayer went something like
this:

JB: “…we thank thee that the we were able to see
Santa tonight-”
Camryn, in an extremely loud whisper, as if not wanting to
embarrass me by revealing my stupidity to the other three people 12 inches away
from us (her arms still folded and head still bowed, of course): “NO
DAD!  Not Santa! It was an elf!”
JB:
”
“

How do you respond to that?  After containing my laughter, I
just chickened out and continued the prayer long enough to get their minds off
of it and said Amen.

JB

— Well, after I wrote this, Susie read it
and informed me that I confused the timeline.  Camryn did not instruct
Santa himself (or the elf, as the case may be) in basic economics.  Rather,
this conversation took place immediately after she got off Santa’s lap and
someone asked her what she asked Santa for.  However, I left the email as
is for two reasons: 1) the contrast between our kids is the same regardless of
who Camryn was schooling;  2) it reminded us of Lisa, for whom a good story
(and she has many) should never be at the mercy of  unbridled accuracy.