Mary Ann Fitzmorris / L’Observateur / December 16, 2000

Consider a cruel paradox of life. As the mind of the child becomes sharper, the brain of the parent becomes just another flaccid muscle in the old body.

I am soon to be fired as a helper to Santa and the elves. My performance lately has been most unimpressive. The last few days have proven that today’s elves, like their human counterparts, have to be much more clever than they used to be, because today’s kids are more savvy than ever.

Case in point: My son has, in his possession right now, the very scooter I mentioned in a previous column. And it all happened so fast!We were shopping, and ran into a table full of Razor scooters at a great price. Upon close inspection, my son declared these the wrong kind. I was relieved, as they were $130 on sale. He said these were not the model he needed; the wheelie bar wasn’t necessary, because he could do his own wheelies. I nodded appreciatively, swallowing the dire warnings just bursting to gush out.

Crisis averted, I thought. We moved on, and again he stopped in his tracks. Before him was another table of the right scooter, AT THE RIGHT PRICE, for only this one day! There were five scooters left, which would surely be snapped up within hours.

The begging began for an early Christmas present. I tuned his pleas to barely audible volume as my mind raced to possible solutions to this dilemma. Sending him to another part of the store while I bought it surreptitiously wasn’t an option, because the crowds at the register meant he ‘d have to be gone a long, long time. No, if I wanted that scooter at $79.99, I had to start spinning, and quick.”But what if Santa brings that to you?” I protested lamely. “Well, he won’t bring it if he knows you already got me one,” he counters.

Unsuspecting kid logic. He,. . . or, rather, that sale, was forcing me to completely restructure the Christmas gift hierarchy this year. I mentally ran through his column of gifts to see what was left for Santa.

It wasn’t pretty. That scooter was going to leave a gaping hole in the “Big” thing category. He would learn a powerful lesson about requesting Christmas gifts early.

He deserved it, though, after the way he and his sister taxed the matchless wits of Santa’s helper the other day. Since stockings hadn’t gone up yet, emergency elf reserves had been swelled by a late-night assist to St.

Nicholas. At the very rear of a deep shelf lay bags of snacks.Remembering this, I did something really, really dumb. The following morning, while packing lunch for the two children, I needed something in the sandwich slot, since we already had the chips. I remembered Ritz Bits in the elf supplies. (A loose interpretation of sandwich, I know, but in this house ketchup is a vegetable.)Wrestling my way to the cache, I thought of plausible explanations.

“Goodness, look what I found buried under the chip bags!” My son was delighted. My daughter’s face clouded. Remembering the Law of EvenStevens, to which all parents must adhere, I returned to the pantry and miraculously came out with a bag of Mini-Oreos for her! For once, it was not the inequity that was bothering her. “Mom,I know there were no bags of Mini-Oreos back there! I think those must have been left by the elf!” “No, sweetie,” I disagreed, putting my sleepy mind on red alert, “You know what a mess it is back there; I’m sure these were left over from the huge stockpile we bought over the summer. I just had to dig really deep.”Both kids stared at me suspiciously. “Mom,” my daughter said gravely, the Ritz Bits you bought for lunch had cheese filling. These are peanut butter.” I could practically feel the elves glaring at me from the North Pole.”Hey we’re late!” was the only reply I could muster. On the way to school my son spoke softly from the back seat. “These must have been left by the elf, Mom, because the packing date is October 16th. You couldn’t have bought these in the summer.””Amazing!” I whinemarvel in despair, waiting to hear what other discoveries might defy explanation. I live with investigate reporters.The elves were probably pitying me by this time. I sure hope the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy don’t hear about this.

Back to Top

Back to Leisure Headlines

Copyright © #Thisyear# Wick Communications, Inc.Best viewed with 4.0 or higher