Merry Christmas!

I thought we were done with Santa Claus. She is, after all, half past ten, and the only conversation about the procurement of gifts this December was about how difficult Wiis were to find in the stores. In the stores. Where, to the best of my knowledge, elves don't shop. But, along bedtime--or way past, once the family cleared out and that photo was snapped to document how grown she's getting, she went searching in the cabinet for the designated plate and cup and laid out a sugary repast, "but at least it's fat free milk!"

I thought surely it was just ritual; we don't have many, but we cling to those that we have. I was wrong.

In the middle of the night or the crack of the morning--I don't know how early, it was pitch black, and I don't function if there's no school--she shocked us with "Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!" and we put her off with her stocking and tried for more sleep. But then too soon enough she got her thrill and I got my wake up call:

"Santa brought me a Wii!"

"Oh, no, he didn't," I just about said. "Surely you don't believe that! Besides, your mother wants some credit!"