Tuesday, 15 December 2015

THE STUFF CHILDHOOD TRAUMAS ARE MADE OF

*Part Two of our Tasteless Christmas Decorations series
I was driving through an area that shall remain anonymous (Bramalea, Ontario) last night when I happened across this Christmas horror: A billowing, 15-foot-tall inflated Santa dwarfing the tiny bungalow behind him and daring all to enter at their peril.

Child: Mommyyyyyyyyyy! That big man scares me!
Mom: Whaddya mean? It's Santa!
Child: I'm afraid he's going to eat me!
Mom: But he's Santa.
Child: But he's bigger than our house. And he's making blowy noises!
Mom: *growing impatient* That's just the hot-air thing that keeps him fat and jolly. C'mon, let's go get a closer look . . . 
Child: *bursts into panicked sobs* Noooooo! I hate Santa! I hate Christmas! I just peed my pants!
Dad: *coming to front door in his underwear* What's all that racket? 
Mom: Jayden's scared of your big ugly Santa.
Dad: Do you know how long it took to blow that stupid thing up, you ungrateful little... That's it. Next year, I'm doin' those candy cane lights like everyone else around here does. 

Therapist: *16 years later* Are you sure it was that big, Jayden? You could be over-remembering it as a way to justify your bed-wetting fear of Christmas.
Jayden: *inserting thumb into mouth and cringing* It was that big. And I told you not to say that word! Ever!