My last "real" Christmas came when I was 12 - my little brother had just been born, and the fact that he was 0 and my sister was 7 meant that the days of expecting a bunch of presents sitting under the tree for my older brother and I were over. As a matter of fact, I remember my mother getting me out of bed to help her put the younger kids' gifts together and under the tree. Once you're on the Put-the-Goddam-Presents-Under-the-Tree Team, the magic and mystery of Santa Claus is pretty much dead, I'd say. The honeymoon is over. Not that I believed in Santa until then, but becoming an age where your parents actually put you to work in that field is a real milestone. What the fuck, I remember thinking, am I a kid has-been? What's next - I gotta go get a job in the morning? Should I join the fucking Lion's Club? Part of "growing up", I reckon. I do remember the last two gifts I got from "Santa" before I got completely cut off: a hairbrush and a bottle of English Leather cologne. Great. Nothing like waking up on Christmas morning with a message from your parents: "Your hair sucks, and you fucking reek." Nice.
I probably tried to drag my Santa-years out as long as possible; even after finding out I remember trying to still believe. Which is tough with an older brother who figured out the whole Santa bit when he was, oh, 4 days old and couldn't wait for me to learn how to understand English so he could drop the bomb on me himself. Tis how it works with older brothers, I'm sure. I never cared to even learn the machinations of grown-up things when I was a kid; my brother however loved to listen in on adult things like "mortgages" and "tax rates" and "swinging." Okay, the last one I made up. My point is I was happy to be blissfully unaware of anything "adult." So I had quite a time trying to convince myself there is a Santa. As a child I never let myself fall for that old trick by parents, who are always yelling "Grow up! you gotta grow up!! grow up, be a man!!! quit being an idiot and grow up!!!" I was not a bright kid, but I did figure out early on the ridiculousness of this. Oh, I'm 7 years old, but I gotta "grow up!!" Great!!! Drop me off at the Army Recruitment Center, Pops!! Now that I've stopped pissing my Star Wars bedsheets, it's time for me to hunt down Charlie!! I figured out that if you're a kid from, lets say 5 to 18, that’s 13 years. Meanwhile, if you live to be, say, 76, that means you get to be "grown up!!" for 58 years. 58 FUCKING YEARS!!! I figured fuck you, I've got 58 years to not be an idiot, to grind it out for the Man 8 hours a day, to do grown up things like banking, painting my own house and saying things like "He's so lucky - I hope I go in my sleep too." Parents need to drop this act of wanting their kids to be "little grown ups", and just be honest with them: "Please get big enough to be able to cut the fucking grass. It's too hot for my old ass out there. Cut the grass!!" That was pretty much my job as a child anyways. "Don’t get killed, don’t embarrass me in front of other parents, and cut the goddam grass." That's it. And of course getting myself killed would intertwine with embarrassing them in front of other parents. "He did what?...walked into the road, got hit by a truck?...jesus christ...I'm gonna look like an idiot...maybe it was a suicide?...no, he was just wandering around in the road like an idiot, huh...greeeeaat...f&*&ing kid!!"
So kids: stay young!! Parents: cut your own fucking grass!!!!!! Readers: I did not piss the bed till I was 7, I was only making a point!!!!!!!
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