Page 4 of A Candy Cane Christmas
The situation kinda got out of hand because neither of us grown-ups knew how to react, so in the end, he accepted? (I think. That part was a bit muddy, so I’m not entirely sure).
Usually, my kiddo is really good about not being overly friendly with strangers. Like, I’m not teaching her that every grown-up she doesn’t know is dangerous because if she ever finds herself in a dangerous situation without me being there, I WANT her to go to an adult for help, but I obviously teach her to not go with strangers under any circumstances, to not accept gifts or treats, etc.
So, for her to invite someone she doesn’t know at all to celebrate Christmas with us is kind of out of the ordinary, but I get it. The guy was wearing tights, a hat that jingled every time he moved, and those funny, pointy shoes that curl up at the toes and have bells attached to them, too. Basically, he looked the opposite of threatening.
I tried talking to her about it, but she insists she did the right thing because he’s one of Santa’s Helpers and it’s not right for him to be all alone at Christmas. She firmly believes in Santa, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy, and I really don’t want to have to come clean about them already, but… what if next time it’s not my quirky, sweet downstairs neighbor but a real—potentially dangerous—stranger?
Has something like this ever happened to one of you?
How do I handle the situation (primarily the situation with my daughter, but I could use help regarding my neighbor, too)? Do I talk to him? I kinda have to, don’t I?
Thanks in advance,
TeenDaddy
UncleSam: I think you’re doing a great job of teaching your daughter the difference between stranger danger and helpful adults. Wasn’t it Mr. Rogers who said something about always looking for the helpers in scary situations? I didn’t remember that back when my teen was little, but I think it’s good advice for our kids. Maybe just remind your daughter that sometimes the elves at the mall and other places are just pretending, so we have to make sure Daddy says it’s okay.
As far as the neighbor, yeah, dinner could be awkward if you don’t talk to him. My new neighbor is my friend from long ago, and my teen is definitely playing matchmaker (although I don’t know that it’s going to take much). If you like the elf, I say go for it.
DADvertising: First, teaching stranger danger at that age can be so hard. I have a 6-year-old daughter, and I almost misswhen she was a little shyer. Kiddo will talk to anyone at any time. As for how to address the elf thing, UncleSam had a good point about saying they’re pretending, but that could also mess up the whole belief in Santa thing. I’ve told my daughter that the elves and Santa at the mall are part-time helpers for Santa. They live in our world, and every Christmas season, they work at the mall so the full-time elves can make all the toys.
Works, so when she sees the neighbor not dressed like an elf, she’s not losing that magic. Downside is, my daughter recognized one of the older teens from her dojo as an elf and tried to convince him to give Santa some additions to her Christmas list.
As for the neighbor, yes, you have to talk to him. If nothing else, you need to know if you’re setting an extra place at the table, and if so, give him a warning about what cover story you told the kid. Wouldn’t want him accidentally contradicting you.
Chapter 2
Theo
“Look, Daddy!” Hazel pulled something square and glittery out of her backpack. “I made a gift for Mr. Elf!”
Fridge my life.
“Ohh, it looks wonderful, sweetie,” I said, trying for a real smile while dread coiled tightly in my stomach, turning the cereal bar I’d eaten an hour ago into lead. I’d gotten amazing feedback from the guys in the forum, but I had yet to do anything about the Elf-Crisis, as I dubbed what’d happened two days ago.
I loved my daughter’s compassion. She was such a fierce and kind person, always standing up for what she thought was right—just like her mom had—but sometimes, just for a fraction of a second, I wished she’d not be quite as outspoken.
“Do you think Mr. Elf will like my gift?”
“I bet he’ll adore it.” If he actually came, which I wasn’t sure about. Hell—ooo Kitty, I wasn’t even sure if I wanted him to come.
“Good.” Hazel nodded once, a satisfied smirk on her lips. “I don’t want Mr. Elf to go without a gift, you know, and I’m not sure Santa would get him one. Because kids get gifts from Santa, but he’s not a kid. Grown-ups don’t get gifts from Santa, but he’s not a grown-up, he’s an elf.”
Ohh… this was the opportunity I’d been waiting for.
“Mr. Elf might be an elf, but he’s also a grown-up,” I told my daughter, patting the dark blue couch cushions next to me.
Raising her eyebrows doubtfully, she followed my suggestion and skipped over, plopping down on the couch with a little huff that clearly said she didn’t buy what I was telling her, but she was willing to hear me out before she started grilling me again.
“You see, helping Santa out is Mr. Elf’s job,” I explained. I took a deep breath to get a little more time to come up with a logical explanation that did not bend the truth too much. “Just like my job is to go to school. Or work at the on-campus bookstore. And do you remember what I’m wearing on days I’m working in the bookstore?”
Hazel nodded, curling herself up against me. “The itchy blue shirts you hate.”
“Exactly.”
“So Mr. Elf doesn’t always wear his work clothes?”
I nodded, relieved she’d caught on so quickly. “Yes, that’s right. I imagine wearing bells all day long gets really annoying. And just imagine him trying to go to sleep, but every time he moves his head jingles.”
