All They Want for Christmas is...Jane Roper
Well, after idly musing over the past few weeks about what they might like from Santa, the girls have finally put it down (via me) in official lists, written on construction paper Christmas trees. (Elsa’s idea. Nice touch, eh?)
Among the many things Elsa wants is “a big pony with a crank on it, and when you get on and turn the crank the pony rides around.”
I asked her, “Is this a toy you saw somewhere?”
“No,” she said. “I just want it.”
OK, so, get on that, Santa: Pony, crank, motion.
She would also like “a toolkit with real tools.” Funny story about that one. She’s been asking for this for a while, and so last week, I went out and bought her a little toolkit with *real* (not plastic), kid-sized tools. To be used only with close parental supervision, of course. I was so proud of myself. And so proud of her. What a kickass thing to ask for! Way to buck gender stereotypes, my little gal who — as it happens — also loves pink and wearing dresses.
Then I showed the kit to Alastair, and he said, “Are you serious? Did you forget that this is Elsa you’re talking about? Elsa who injures herself seven times on a daily basis?” (It’s true. I stole this metaphor from a writer friend of mine, who used it to describe her own daughter, but Elsa really is like a little Mary Katherine Gallagher)
I looked back at the tool kit again. Yeah. Somehow I’d failed to fully grasp the fact that there was a saw in it. Like, a real saw. A saw that could, in a pinch, be used to perform an amputation. And a hammer, of the sort that could do a real number on a finger or thumb. You know, the hammer kind of hammer.
He’s totally right. She’s SO not ready for it. But I’m going to let her have the tape measure this year. And the toolbox itself. And maybe the level. I think she can handle that much. And then we can gradually add tools over the next couple of years; work our way up to the potentially lethal ones.
Clio, meanwhile, wants a rubber donkey with spots that you can ride on (as mentioned in my recent post on the girls’ donkey fetish) and — this was a new one — a drum set. We’re going to have to exercise the parental veto on that one. Alastair did, however, secure a couple of gently used ukeleles. (Real ones! But not lethal!) So, that’ll have to do.
She had trouble thinking of other things she wanted. “How about a new umbrella for Elsa, since she lost hers?” Aww.
Both of the girls ended up adding some items to their lists taken verbatim from The Berenstain Bears Meet Santa Bear: A Hug-me-Back Bear (I don’t think this actually exists, but it’s a great idea!), a Dinosaur Molding Kit, a Robot, and “some surprises.”
One of those surprises will be sleds. Plus some books, and a couple of stocking stuffers. I also recently discovered Alastair’s childhood Lego set in the attic, and I’m thinking we should put that under the tree, too. (They won’t notice that it’s from 1979, right?)
And that’ll pretty much do it, methinks. No need to go overboard. (I am a fan of the crap-free Christmas.)
On that note, I give you a bit of holiday silliness and anti-overboard sentiment from my beloved Mr. Baby Squared. (And a reminder to buy local when you can!)