Monday, November 8, 2010
Where does Santa live?
So, in case you're new to my 'hood, I'll fill you in on our household demographics. I'm Jewish. Born and raised. Hubby is not. He's really not much of anything. We say he's agnostic, I guess. He does celebrate Christmas, though. Not much of an Easter fan, but Christmas is the holiday for families and whatnot.
So - you're wondering - what about the little one? Well, she's going to be brought up Jewish, but I also would like for her to know and understand how her father grew up, as well. And the other day I mentioned this to him (the husband) and said, you're going to have to let me know what you want to do for Christmas this year. See, this is the first year in ages that we're staying home (as in NC!) for the holidays. ALL of the holidays. We were home for Christmas the first year after the wee one was born, but we had arrived home from NYC just the day or two before, and we were all sick. And it's not like she knew any better that year, so we kind of overlooked the holiday, for the most part.
And this year Chanukah starts during the early days of December, so it won't fall with Christmas at all. And we'll light the candles every night, as we've done in years past, and we'll give her a small gift each night, and so on and so forth. Hubby is truly involved in celebrating Chanukah, so it's not an issue. After all, when he asked my parents if he could ask me to marry him he did promise that any future children would be raised Jewish.
Now, I'm not sure if he signed anything - - but all the same, a deal was struck.
Of course, we never considered that we'd be raising said child in anywhere down below the Mason-Dixon line. Or wherever the heck we are. Let's just say being Jewish down here isn't the "norm," it's not traditional, or really recognized much past the endcaps of the aisles in Target or Wal-Mart.
So yesterday we were driving around a bit and my husband and I were chatting, and the kiddo pipes up from the back seat and says, "Can we go to the wall?" It was either wall, or something that totally rhymed with wall. We looked at one another, puzzled.
"The wall. The place where we can see Santa." Laughter filled the front seat.
"You mean the mall? Ah, yes. Santa's not there right now."
"It's OK. I want to go there." [Makes total sense, btw, as she told me the other day she had no desire to see Santa this year. So why she's thinking about where he is - I have little clue.]
Hubby decides this is all too much for him. "What do you know about Santa?"
"Where does Santa live?"
"At the mall."
We are so screwed.
There WILL be a day in our future, our pretty Southern Jewish belle will be at school and our phones will ring because some child is crying because our daughter has told him/her that Santa lives at the mall, and not at the North Pole where his/her parents told him/her that Santa lives.
SO totally screwed.