Christ, point me the money tree

Press, 30 November 1987, Page 4

Christ, point me the money tree

It is an interesting phenomenon that as children age, the degree of their belief in Santa Gaus hinges on the value of the gifts he brings. There are folk, myself among them who find mention of “Christmas” and “Santa Claus” stressful. About this time of the year we avoid turning over the leaves of the desk calendar. This is in the naive belief that If we ignore the Yuletide extravaganza it will pass by. It is not because we have been reading the Ebenezer Scrooge manual, “Christmas on Five Dollars a Day.” It is merely a case of the chickens coming home to roost — in the wallet. The horror began, as all such nightmares do, several days ago. Our six-year-old popped his head round the door and said: "Only a month till Christmas! Whoopee!" In his hand was a copy of that day’s “Press,” opened to a large advertisement for a toy shop. “Listen, dad.” He proceeded to read, word perfect, the specials and prices of the toys. This was a clue to important facts. One, the boy’s reading level was

more, advanced than we had appreciated. Two, I must hide advertisements for toys that cost more than I earn. Before the children arrived, Christmas had been a simple affair. Sally and I would exchange gifts and we would ensure Santa delivered a can of salmon for the cat Unfortunately Santa never did deliver a can opener, so that gift was recycled over six Christmases. And then the little ones arrived. Magical, tiny bundles whom we showered with gifts and the special affection that means Christmas. But in those days there was a big difference — we could determine the level of spending. Not any longer. The six-year-old, along with his three-year-old brother whose name we are having changed by deed poll to “And Me,” now issue annual Christmas shopping lists. “Dad, would you make sure Santa gets this?” the older boy said. Handing over a list of demands that featured several zeroes in the price tag. “And me,” said the younger one, handing over his list, thoughtfully written for him by his brother.

Great, they won’t share their toys, but will conspire to see their parents featuring in the wrong pages of the “Mercantile Gazette.” “Look, son,” we said, after recovering our composure from one toy request that had a $79.99 price tag. “That’s a pretty expensive toy. - We’re not sure Santa can provide that” “But you don’t have to pay for it Santa buys it” the child said, thus placing his parents in a minefield of Christmas beliefs. “Ah, yes. But we have to pay Santa back,” Sally said in a response that deserves an international award for diplomacy and cunningness. “Well, that’s what I want.” he renlied. “And me,” said his echo. “I’m sure Santa could deliver a teddy bear,” I offered. “It it a G.I. Joe bear?” “No.” “Has it ever danced on television?” “No.” So much for Mr Edward Bear. Parents are nothing if not resourceful. A number of ploys can be used to deflect requests for outrageously expensive gifts..

Children demanding a $399 Furry Wotsit can be told: “Sorry, dear. But Santa only makes two of those and a little boy and girl in California asked first” A child demanding an expensive fad toy that you know will be out of favour next season can . be told: “Santa says he will get you one from his sale bln for your next birthday.” Claiming to have personal contact with Santa can be useful at this time of the year for encouraging good behaviour in the children. “If you’re naughty I will have to phone Santa and tell him." That scheme worked until last year, when the oldest boy replied: “Go ahead. Phone him. What’s his number?” Our bluff called, we quickly dialled a friend — a very confused friend — who patiently listened to the list of naughty deeds. When the children are small you can drive them past Santa’s coalyard in the city and tell them this is where he collects the coal to put in naughty children’s Christmas stockings. Unfortunately our three-year-old has a technological mind and

the threat failed miserably when he cheerfully asked for a wind-up lump of coal. The calendar indicates there are 19 shopping days until Christmas and as well as selecting their'

own wants, the boys are Inquiring as to what mum and dad want from Santa. “A money tree,” I sighed. “One that grows $lOO notes.” — DAVE WILSON.