In this very commercialized-Christmas kind of world, how do you teach your children what Christmas is all about? I’m sure we’re not alone in this dilemma, but I’ve been particularly worried about it this year – Emma is old enough to start learning this kind of stuff, right?
So we’ve been working on giving, not only receiving. Making crafts for our loved ones. Making cookies for all of our friends and neighbors. And we’ve talked a lot about the real reason Christmas celebrations were started. And on some level, I thought it was all sinking in. And it has been really fun sharing these little traditions with the girls. (I know Addie doesn’t really have a clue, but she sure does love to help with the baking parts!)
Until this week. All Emma can think or talk about is the stupid Butterscotch pony at Target that “Santa is going to bring me.”
Me: “But Butterscotch lives at Target, there isn’t room for a pony here at our house! I’m not sure Santa would take Butterscotch out of Target if that is where he lives.
E: “It’s ok, Mommy. Butterscotch can live in our living room by the Christmas tree. Santa will bring it to me.
Needless to say, I’ve been feeling a little defeated the past few days. She is obsessed about it. And it is disheartening – especially because I know she is going to be very disappointed on Christmas morning. (BUT, Santa will NOT be bringing a Butterscotch, no matter how disappointed she is. The pony is quite dumb…takes up a lot of room…and costs $249! For a stuffed animal that neighs! I don’t think so.)
So…yeah, I’ve been thinking that maybe the whole Christmas idea was a little lost on her. Maybe she is too young. Maybe next year.
And then there was this afternoon. Somewhere along the line, through all of the talking we’ve done, the books we’ve read, or the DVDs we have watched, Emma learned the real “Christmas Story” and did a pretty good (and funny) job of re-enacting it for me. This is how it went…
Emma was “riding” on one of her stuffed bears into the hallway, with her blanket over her head and another bear tucked up into her shirt.
E: “Bye, Mom! I’m going to Bethlehem.”
M: “Oh, why are you going to Bethlehem?”
E: “Because I am Mary and I’m riding my donkey to have a Baby Jesus be born.”
M: “Oh, how do you know that it is a Baby Jesus?” (I asked this because we have also been talking about Aunt Meesh’s new baby-to-be, and we don’t know if it is a baby girl or a baby boy, yet.)
E: “Because the Angel came and told me that it has to be a Baby Jesus.”
(Fair Enough! I’m slightly excited at this point…something is sinking in!)
M: “Ok, then. Let me know how that goes.”
Then she turns around, lifts up her shirt and the bear pops out and falls to the ground.
E: “Mom! I had a Baby Jesus! We need to wrap him in waddling clothes!”
So we did – well, not “waddling clothes” but an old blanket.
E: “Okay I have to go put him in the hay so the kings can come see him.”
And off she went with Baby Jesus. My little Virgin Emma.
Then, later in the day Baby Jesus became Toto, because she was then playing the role of Dorothy. I made the mistake of telling her to pick up Baby Jesus and she said,
“Mom! That is Toto, my puppy!”
But I at least feel a little vindicated that she knows there is more to Christmas than just Santa.
Barely Controlled Chaos 