Sweet Baby Jesus

I get completely wigged out by the holidays. There is drama, unnecessary hugging with people I would rather not, way too much family of origin contact and then all the pressure to produce The Best Christmas. Ever. This year I thought to take a different and new angle and attempt to bring some sort of meaning into it all. So I started with Devon. I told him that Christmas is not all about gifts and things, it is more about love and giving. (Yes, it stands to reason that if somebody is getting then somebody must be getting. But fortunately for me his 4 year-old brain skipped over that part.) He gave me a blank stare as I was obviously speaking jackass to him, so I decided to take another route. I brought up the Grinch and how he tried to steal the Whos’ Christmas but the Whos’ didn’t go for it, instead they sang their little hearts out with joy. “But why, Mai-Mai? That Grinchy took everything and put a reindeer head on his dog and stole all the presents and his heart was broken. Why?” I pondered on that for about as long as a preschooler will allow and said, “Well, honey, they just had so much darn love that they didn’t need all those gifts. They sang to the Grinch to let him know this.” For this I got a cock of the head and a wrinkle of the nose.
Hmmm, maybe another approach was needed so I opted for a bit of religion. Again I took a deep breath, knowing that what I had to say next could open a whole bunch of wiggly worms I might not be able to handle: I brought up Jesus. I told Devon that a small baby was born long, long ago and that baby was so filled with love and inspiration that to this day we celebrate Christmas by showing love to one another. “Oh, so that is why I get presents?” Wondering if I had done the right thing, I replied, Yes. Most definitely yet.” Devon paused for a few seconds and then smiled a huge grin and said, “Ohhhh! Sweet Baby Jesus! He is so cute. I love him!”
Now Devon talks at least four times a day about Sweet Baby Jesus. Sweet, dead, Baby Jesus. And when he really gets on a kick he brings my dad into it and wonders if SBJ and my father are exchanging gifts on the other side of the stars. I tell him, sure, they must be. What the hell else do you do when you’re dead? And while I hope I’ve steered the Christmas greed in a better direction, I can’t help but wonder if I haven’t helped to warp Devon just that little bit more.