Santa Chocolate

Last night my two-year old son was fully indoctrinated into the spirit of Christmas consumerism.

There was a Christmas market at the local primary school, complete with Santa’s grotto for which we patiently queued for a surprisingly long time indeed. He learned Santa’s name straight off the bat, pointing at him, smiling and saying “Santa!” a lot. This was a huge improvement on last year’s tears.

Santa then gave him a selection box and the bond was formed. The kind of unbreakable childhood bond that can only be forged with lots of free shit, delivered on a predictable schedule.

His first words when he woke up this morning were “Santa Chockit” (Which is “Santa Chocolate” in his dialect of elvish).

Santa himself seemed particularly on the ball by knowing his name and street without having to ask. He even inquired about how we were doing and proceeded to strike up a conversation with us. It was a bit embarrassing since Santa’s white beard and wig managed to cover his entire face, even his nose. Neither of us had the faintest idea about who he was, yet he clearly knew us. Sorry Santa.

Add comment November 23rd, 2007