I like this time of year. I really do. There are certain things that happen in December that make this time of year really special. Like being able to tell your kid things like, "Put it on your list" and "If you don't behave I'm gonna call Santa's hotline: 1-800 BRING-MY-KID-A-BAG-OF-ROCKS."

Those two statements can stop a kid from asking for or whining about ANYTHING. Kids, blessedly without knowledge as they are, think that when you tell them to "put it on their list," Santa Claus's spirit is, like, really nearby, listening to the whole verbal exchange. Proof? I have NEVER heard a kid, during December, say, "I don't want to put it on my list. I WANT IT NOW."

If you have a kid like this, you probably named him Houston, because you have a problem. However, attempting to pull off the "Put it on your list" line too early -- in July, for instance -- doesn't work well at all.

"What list?" they're liable to ask.

I tried this with my oldest this year and she said, "It's only August, you can't use the 'Put it on your list' line until December. Maybe Thanksgiving, but not a day earlier." 

I have learned one thing about Christmas shopping this year that is very important: When you finish shopping for a child, DO NOT TELL HER YOU ARE FINISHED.

We finished shopping for our 10-year-old the weekend after Thanksgiving. When we walked in the door, she was standing there waiting for us. "What?" we asked her.

"I need my list. I forgot to put something on it."

"Oh, you don't need it. We finished shopping for you today."  The look we got would've stopped Rudolph in his tracks.

Seriously, telling a child that you are finished Christmas shopping for them takes away the "Imagine if ..." process. I suppose half the fun of the Christmas season for kids is that they are able to imagine having things they want, even if they don't get them. I was the same way when I was a kid. If my mother told me she was finished shopping for me, from that moment on I didn't have any hope of getting anything else new that I might have thought of. If you tell a kid you're done with them, it takes away some of the mystique of the season.

The Jam Box v. the CD Player
A couple of years ago, our then 8-year-old daughter asked Santa Claus for a CD player that listed for $249.95. At that price, I believe it was named something fancier than just "A CD player." I think it actually qualified as "A Jam Box." It wasn't until after Mrs. P and I had bought our daughter a $59.95 CD player that she upped her expectations.  

"So, what did you and Santa talk about?" I asked her after a visit to the old guy's lap.

"Oh, you know, the usual," she said. "Toys and stuff."

I asked the one question all parents must ask if they are to keep Santa's reputation intact. "So what did you ask him for?"

"A CD player."

"Oh? A CD player. Why do you need a CD player?" 

"So I can listen to my Rug Rats CD."

"Oh," I said. "I didn't know you had a Rug Rats CD."

"I don't -- yet."

"Ah, I see. So, what kinda CD player did you ask for?"

"You know, the usual. Detachable speakers. Bass boost. Surround sound. Multi-disc changer. Remote control."

"Wow. Sounds more like A Jam Box."

"Yeah. $249.95 at SuperSound. Saw it in the catalog."

"That's a lotta money for a CD player ... I mean, for a Jam Box."

"Yeah, well Santa and I talked. I think he can afford it."

"I don't know," I told her. "I think Santa's on a budget this year. You know, he's been scaling down lately because of the situation with OPEC. Oil prices for reindeer fuel have shot through the roof."

"Whatever, Dad."

On Christmas morning, there was only momentary hesitation when our daughter opened her $59.95 CD player. After a few seconds of wondering whether it just might be another model of the more expensive kind, she moved on to the next present. And Santa's reputation was still intact.

Rules Regarding Christmas Lists
It's usually early or mid-November when we issue the "Time to make your Christmas list" memo at our house. Of course, the lists are usually lost and must be re-drawn later in the month when Mrs. P and I get serious about shopping.

Every year when our kids sit down and write out what they want, we give them a set of guidelines by which they are expected to abide. I include them today for your reference. Free of charge, I might add:

-- Automobiles are out. Presents should bring joy. A 13-year-old asking for a car is not joyful, nor even remotely funny.

-- All requests must be for items that can be gift wrapped. In other words, you can't wrap a puppy so don't ask for one.

-- Concert tickets to any teen boy-toy singing group will not be given as gifts unless "da bombs" agree to come play -- unplugged -- in our backyard for free. When they are done, they must clean up after themselves and then disappear from the face of the earth forever.

-- If you submit multiple lists (if, perchance, because mom and dad misplaced the first list), a present request must appear on more than one list to qualify as "a genuine want," or we'll think you just put it on the list because you saw it on a TV commercial 30 seconds ago.

-- Do NOT ask for anything furry, stuffed and cute that represents a creature that has never existed in real life. Like a Furby. Or a Teletubby. Or an Elmo. Or a blue dog. If we're gonna buy it, we've got to know what it is. Snoopy Dogs and Woody dolls are OK -- those things really lived.

-- If every 10-year-old in the entire world wants one, you don't need it. Trust us on this one.

-- "You want a Pokeman? Believe us: by July, they'll be about as popular as pet rocks are today."

-- Thou shalt not ask for presents that contain 10,000 pieces. Lite Brites -- Good example. Really boring toy, you'd hate it.

-- For as long as we are your parents, anything that requires toy ammunition or drum sticks will not be found under our tree. Sorry, we're kinda funny that way.

-- Now that the groundwork has been laid and the rules established, have a nice Christmas. We love you, we just want to shop wisely and don't want to have to buy you anything that will be messy or in a garage sale in six months.

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