Santa Ain't Got No Time For That!

There are few things that my husband, Steven, and I get in what I would call real fights about.  I'm talking true, in-your-face, if-you-say-one-more-thing-I-just-might-have-to-throw-something-at-you, yelling matches. I'm not saying that we don't get snippy or snide from time to time. And I'm certainly not saying that we are immune to, dare I say, sarcasm or passive-aggressive comments. For the most part, we're good about talking out what's on our minds and dealing with what's going on.  Plus, we just usually get along. 

    

This generally harmonious union gets pretty shaken up when one particular topic gets brought to light. And here lately, it's been brought up a little too often.  And that little bit of destructiveness revolves around the jolliest of symbols for the holiday season.  It all started with a question. Does Santa wrap the gifts that he brings?  I know what you're thinking?  That's it?  That's what all the hooplah is about?  And the answer is a resounding YES!  The discussion of this one measly topic makes my blood pressure go up and threatens to start a migraine. 

    

So here's my take (and also why I'm right).

    

I grew up with a Santa that did not wrap gifts and I have no intention of having a Santa in my house that does.  Oh, the big guy in your house did?  Yeah, don't care.  Go sit with my husband and pout about it, because you get no sympathy from me on the subject.  I plan to win this argument.  And I will do so by sheer, brute force if I have to.  It's that serious in our house, folks. 

    

My husband's Santa wrapped everything.  Good for him.  Glad he had the time.  Or the want.  Or the misguided thinking that lead to such poor decision making.  And because he grew up in a house where everything was so lovingly placed in paper, he believes that his son should have the same.  In fact, he wanted to try and guilt me into such behavior.  He actually said to me, "Why aren't my traditions important?"  Well, to that I remind him that the boy already has his face and his last name—two things I don't see him getting rid of any time soon.  Deal with it, my friend.  By the way, my husband also likes to state that our Jack gets his stubborn streak from me.  Well, let's prove it to Daddy, shall we?

    

My sister and I got gifts from our Santa unwrapped while the ones from our parents were wrapped up.  That's just how we did it.  Steven likes to argue that seeing everything laid out takes the joy and surprise out of it.  Well, seeing as how he's never had his gifts unwrapped I'm not sure how he can make such a broad statement.  But that's just my opinion.  My other opinion, is that he's wrong.  Period. The end.  We were always excited to see what we received from Santa, and looking at our perfectly placed piles (Santa was always so, so good at pile-making) never took away from anything. 

    

I tried to tell Steven that if he wanted to have Santa wrap gifts—HE could make sure that happened.  And he told me he would—in bags.  Are you kidding?!  Santa can't wrap in bags!  Come on, man, get it together!  How is Santa supposed to carry around a bag full of bagged items from house to house?  There's no way. And, if you're going to wrap, you need to do it right.  So I pulled the offer.  And got annoyed that it was even accepted (no matter how poorly).  

    

Everything about this annoys me.  Aggravates me. 

I'm sure this seems silly.  Maybe it is.  And I'm sure this has everything to do with how (and possibly where) you were raised.  I have a few friends that grew up around here that had Santas that wrapped.  Sigh* Tragic.  But for the most part it seems to be a "you ain't from 'round these parts" type thing.  Now The Hubby grew up in North Carolina. His parents?  New York.  Slightly different.  Not better, not worse.  And really, unless we're talking about whether or not Santa wraps gifts, no big deal. 

    

But we are.  And we are currently a week from Christmas and I'm not sure we've actually come to an agreement that we're happy with.  Because I do want Steven to be happy.  As long as he's happy doing it my way, of course.