Happy Old Year
Long holiday breaks mean a lot of quality time with Sandler. Quality time with Sandler means two weeks straight at skateparks and answering the strangest and most thought provoking questions. As much as I look forward to all the fun and excitement that comes with the holiday season, I have to prepare myself for what will inevitably be a test of my parenting patience.
This winter break I decided to journal all of the interesting conversations Sandler and I had. By day two I realized it was a terrible idea. Not only would it be impossible to document the number of interesting questions and quotes, but I also cannot write fast enough to keep up with the kid.
Given the time of year, the opening subject had to do with the authenticity of Santa Clause. Our second evening into break we were leaving the skatepark and bumped into a fellow skater who had obviously been indulging in some adult chicken (that is what we call weed in our house — the back story you can reference here: https://www.sandlerschase.com/blog/adultchicken). He was eager to say goodbye to Sandler, but I could tell he was feeling a little over smoked and the exchange was going to raise some eye brows. What I did not anticipate was this being the defining moment where Sandler questioned Santa’s existence.
Just as we had gotten through the friendly exchange of holiday plans and said our farewell, the guy squinted his eyes a little harder, and in his baked tone said, “He doesn’t still believe in Santa Clause does he?” I could see the look of disgust, confusion and sadness come over Sandler’s face and I hurried him to the car. He started crying as he buckled his seatbelt and I immediately thought to myself I needed to think fast and do some damage control.
A light went on when I realized it was a teachable moment and devised a plan. I turned the car off and comforted him. Then I explained that I did not want to have to tell him this, but the guy who just upset him smokes adult chicken — and adult chicken is a drug. I continued the lesson by informing him that people who use drugs do not get to celebrate Christmas or receive gifts from Santa. I wrapped up the difficult discussion by telling him that as long as he believes in the magic of Christmas and stays off of drugs, he is in good shape. Then we grabbed a pizza and drove around looking at the holiday lights; once again he was content and smiling.
As the break continued, the inquiries and material covered were abundant. While admiring several windows and lawns with manger scenes the questions, “Where do babies come from?” and, “How old is Baby Jesus this year?” were presented. I pretended not to hear the first one and challenged Sandler and his sister to do some research on what birthday this would mark for Jesus. It was unanimous, according to my kids, he was turning twenty-eight. Naturally, we started a new tradition of having a birthday cake with the appropriate amount of candles.
Enlightened and exhausted, we brought in the new year happy and healthy. Sandler’s focus is now on why everyone keeps saying, “Happy New Year.” His response is that it happened a long time ago and does not make any sense that people keep saying it. In his defense, he covers so much ground in an hour that last week seems like a lifetime ago.
Happy New Year, or Happy Old Year as he would prefer, and here’s too many more exciting new adventures with Sandler.
- Nikki