Direct Line to the Big Guy

I am enjoying parenting right now. I don't usually play alot of mindgames with the tots, but I am finding it refreshing to keep my cool and pull another authority figure into the equation this holiday season. I doubt I'm causing permanent damage...

This afternoon, Mags had a shower in our bathroom and then sat on our bed trying to avoid having me comb out her hair before naptime. Rather than fighting her, I was ignoring her antics and doing a sodoku puzzle on a little bench near the floor. All at once, I heard the sound of well, I wasn't sure what - you could tell there was a little friction - and that the noise was of the nefarious variety. It was definitely the sound of naughtiness in action, or, in common terms, blue ballpoint pen on 400-thread count pillowcase.

As I sprang from my bench to see what was the matter... my darling, wrapped in her pink butterfly towel, threw herself into the fetal position among the pillows, knowing that no good was about to come of her actions.

There was only one thing for a mama to do: Call Santa.

"I'm sorry, Mags, but you know that I'm one of Santa's helpers, and it's my sworn duty to report these types of things to him. That's how he knows who to put on the naughty list and who goes on the nice list." I picked up the phone and dialed.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Don't call Santa!!! I don't want coal for Christmas! I want Santa to bring me TOYS!!!!!"

"Well, I'll see what I can do, but this is a pretty serious offense." Then Santa and I had a little conversation about how surprised we were that Maggie would be so flagrantly disrespectful and naughty so very close to the big day. While we spoke, Mags waited - eyes bulging, tears nestling into the corners of her eyes.

After I got off the phone, Maggie wanted to know if Santa was still coming to our house and if so, was he planning to bring her coal. (I am as certain as I can be that she has no concrete knowledge of what coal might be, but it's working for us.) I told her that I didn't know - it would depend on how she acted between now and Christmas and whether or not there was a big ink stain on the pillowcase when he came to visit.

So, it was a somber and repentant Maggie that let me comb through her gnarled hair. But, she recovered in time to beg to wear one of my nighties for naptime. As she got dressed, I went into the laundry room to douse the pillowcase with Spray and Wash. She came in, whining - "The straps are too long! I need you to fix them!"

"Maggie, for goodness' sake! Can't you see what I'm doing here?! I'm trying to clean the pillowcase and SAVE CHRISTMAS! You'll have to dress yourself."

When we got into her room and I was snuggling her into bed for nap, we heard the sound of Jay's footsteps in the house. Mags grabbed my arm - "DON'T ASK PAPA!!!"

"What?"

"Don't ask Papa that I was naughty!"

"You mean don't TELL Papa that you were naughty?"

"Yes. Don't tell Papa!"

...as if Papa is the one who helps Santa out around this house.