“Santa ALWAYS brings you the toys that you REALLY want,” Cooper told his younger brother Fergus yesterday, with great gravity, as we waited at the bus stop.
“Well,” I hedged, since Santa isn’t planning on coming through with the $49.99 choking-hazard-ridden LEGO Jedi Starfighter with Hyperdrive Booster Ring which was mentioned for the first time moments before, “he tries.”
“No, Mommy,” Cooper countered, calmly. “If Santa knows it’s what you want the most, that’s what he brings.” And then he stepped aboard the bus. I can only hope that what Cooper “wants the most” will change back to the “Dark Vader costume” he requested three weeks ago.
Apparently, Santa is able to anticipate the quicksilver wishes of a 5 year old because he is omniscient. Two days ago, when Fergus accomplished the hell-freezing-over feat of pooping on the potty (at the ripe old age of 3 years and 4 months), I suggested that we write jolly Saint Nick to let him know. “He already knows, because Santa knows everything,” Cooper asserted, as he splashed in the bathtub nearby. “He knows more than GOD, even.”
I wish. My husband is saying he doesn’t want anything at all for Christmas. Since he is impossible to buy for, I think he thinks he is making my life easier. In reality, it just means I have to attempt to summon these all-knowing Santa powers, so that the other stressed mothers who are related to us, and who keep asking me what to get him, can check him off their list at last. This means a lot of thumbing through catalogs and making stuff up. I don’t want to leave them hanging; I feel their pain.
So I hope he will like his Jedi Starfighter with Hyperdrive Booster Ring. He’s going to get, like, three of them.