Page 13 of The Santa Rules
She doesn’t acknowledge my comment, but her cheeks pinken as she fills them in on my problem, recapping how I royally fucked up Avery’s first Christmas without her mom. I shift in my seat as they all take turns giving me sympathetic glances. The attention has my stomach in knots.
Bella beams as she turns to me. “Are you ready to learn the secret to Christmas that will change your life?”
“Okay, I think you’re overselling it a little,” Raven says.
“I think my life changed the night I showed up at your place on a 911 call. But sure, tell me your Christmas secrets.”
Bella’s mouth drops open and then snaps shut as the rest of the ladies swoon. I can tell I’ve distracted her, so I nudge her with my foot. Her thigh rubs against mine in the process, and I tamp down the urge to slide my palm under the table, grip her leg, and trail my hand higher until I can feel if she’s damp in her panties.
Where are these thoughts coming from?
I pull my leg back from hers, shoving down the inappropriatethought. This woman is my child’s teacher. And I’m going to be working closely with her over the next few weeks. Getting involved with her is probably not the best idea right now. I’ve got to get my libido under control.
But you haven’t thought about another woman like this since Lydie.
If Bella notices my inner turmoil, she doesn’t show it as she clears her throat, gathering our attention. “We treat Santa like a streaming service.”
The women all nod like this is a revelation, and I cross my arms on my chest, waiting for more. “I’m not following.”
“Santa is a subscription. You know how all these apps have different tiers you can subscribe to? That’s how we treat Santa.”
Summer quickly scans the room, then props her elbows on the table. “Your kid is young, so you might not have experienced this yet, but at some point, she’ll find out that her friends got more or less from Santa than she did. I’ll never forget the day that my kid came home and asked me why Santa brought his friend a PlayStation and all he got was a LEGO set. I was at a loss for what to tell him that wouldn’t ruin the magic.”
“The Santa Rules make it easy. There are different tiers. If Avery’s friends brag about getting an iPad, all you do is explain that her friend’s parents subscribe to a different tier, so that’s why they got different gifts,” Bella explains.
“It’s an easy way for your kid to understand without you having to admit that you’re poor,” Raven adds. “This way, if her friends get more, they’re on different tiers.”
“What are all the tiers?” I ask, my mind already struggling to keep up with how complicated this must be.
A huge grin lights up Bella’s face. “That’s the best part. It’s whatever you decide it is based on your traditions or preferences. Only want to have Santa bring one gift so you get credit for the rest? It’s a tier. Want Santa to bring all the gifts? It’s atier. Want Santa to bring three gifts like the wise men? It’s a tier. Want to teach your kids how to budget and have Santa bring under a certain dollar amount? It’s a tier!”
“You get a tier, you get a tier, EVERYBODY GETS A TIER!” they all shout in unison as they clink their drinks and take another sip.
Lucy claps her hands excitedly. “Literally whatever you already do is a tier. It’s a great way to honor everyone’s unique traditions and cultures and explain it in a way kids can grasp.”
“And you can opt in or out of anything. Live animals, clothing, large electronics, baby brothers, video games, weapons like Nerf guns, or anything else you can think of. Your kid wants a pet? Sorry, we opted out of live animals,” Bella adds.
“In my house, we opt in to Santa’s toy trade-in program—he picks up our old toys, and the kids get new ones. I tell them that we can donate our unused toys to Santa so he can fix them up and share them with others. That allowed me to shift the focus to helping others and giving back. Then I sneak the box of toys to donate into my trunk and drop it off at Goodwill,” Lucy explains.
“Girl, you’re a better person than me. If I did that, those toys would be in my trunk for months, outta sight, outta mind. And then one of my kids would find it later and Christmas would be ruined,” Summer says with a laugh.
“Also, your little stocking problem is totally solvable,” Bella says.
I shift in my seat. “I want it on record that my stocking isn’t little.”
The ladies take another sip of their drinks.
“Noted,” Bella says as her eyes rake down my body. “Santa can help with your not so little stocking. Since you let it slip that you fill it, you can explain that you opted out of Santa-filled stockings. And then you can encourage her to shop for yours too.”
Are there any problems moms can’t solve? “I’m kind of in awe of you ladies right now. This is incredibly thought out and thorough.”
They all smile, and I wrack my brain trying to think of anything I can to stump them. “What about that damn elf?”
Raven bangs a fist on the table. “I hate the fucking elves!”
Bella breaks into a fit of laughter, and the sound warms my chest. “You can opt out of elves, like anything else you don’t want to do, but after what you told me about last year, I’m afraid that won’t be an option for you.”
“You’re probably right,” I grumble as another thought hits me. “What about all the mall Santas? How do you explain those?”
