“Mommy, why does Santa only come once a year?”
Oliver’s words burst through my stale thoughts.
“Because he can only make so many toys, sweetie. Those poor elves would never get a break if there were two Christmases,” I tell him in my chipper mommy-voice. I sigh, hoping my answer satisfies the four year old boy genius at my side. At home, in the peace of my own living room, snuggled on the sofa with him and a book, I might be inclined to come up with something more creative. Perhaps I would tell him all about the North Pole and Santa’s workshop and the eight or nine reindeer and all of the other bullshit that goes along with the secular Christmas story. Right here, right now, I’m more likely to pull out a semi-automatic weapon and start letting rounds fly into the mall crowd. And then the speakers, playing the endless loop of holiday music. Those would be the next to go. Continue reading