WWSCD?

Good news: Edith, a future Preacher's Kid(TM), is suddenly extremely excited about Christmas.

Less good news: The future Preacher and future Professor have so far failed to convey to their offspring a proper appreciation of the Reason for the Season(TM).

In time-honored tradition dating back at least to my childhood, Edith seems to have skipped straight from anticipating Halloween to waiting for Christmas, Thanksgiving but a dim blur somewhere in the middle there. Suddenly she's vitally interested in all things Santa Claus: her Santa Claus pajamas from last year, which still fit; her Santa Claus slippers from two years ago, which do not; "The Night Before Christmas"; How the Grinch Stole Christmas; Olive, the Other Reindeer; and any information she can glean on Santa Claus's habits and predilections.

When she started pestering me to see Santa Claus, I told her that he would be coming to Mor-mor and Grandpa's house next month while we were visiting there for Christmas. Soon realizing that (1) that wasn't going to be soon enough to satisfy her, (2) I had given her the mistaken impression that she'd actually see Santa on that occasion, I then remarked that Santa Claus might be coming to her school in a few weeks, even before we go to Mor-mor and Grandpa's house. She begged for more details on that possibility, until I told her she'd have to ask Ms. Dian, the school's director. The next morning she marched straight up to Ms. Dian and asked, "Can Santa Claus come to my school?" Ms. Dian said she'd have to put in a call to the North Pole to see about that. Apparently Edith reminded her to call several times that day.

In the meantime, we told Edith that Christmas is also Jesus' birthday. As she sang along to "Away on a Manger" on the Christmas CD we were playing I asked, "Asleep on the hay? No crib? Huh. Do you know why Jesus was asleep on the hay?" hoping to spark interest in that story, too. So far Edith hasn't bitten. Anyone know a particularly well-illustrated picture book of the Christmas story?

Instead Santa has loomed all the larger since the day last week when Tom and I found ourselves giving voice to truly time-honored parental lines, almost before we realized that we were doing it: telling Edith that Santa does brings presents to children on Christmas, but only to good children, and that she would need to behave well in order to get presents.

I don't think we laid it on too thick, but it didn't take much for Santa Claus to assume full-scale proportions in Edith's head as the omniscient, invisible arbitrer of all human moral behavior, the benevolent friend on high who will ultimately reward her good deeds. Now we're hearing comments daily along the lines, "I'm going to be a good girl for Santa." A mention of his name can be enough to forestall whining and stimulate her to do as she's been asked. I mentioned to her on Saturday that she had been a great help at the grocery store, and when we got in the car she commented: "When Santa comes to Mor-mor and Grandpa's house on Christmas, he will be so proud of me that I was a good helper in the grocery store." She has even said, "I will show Santa Claus my Santa pajamas; he will like to see me wearing them."

And so we continue letting her try to accumulate good works with which to impress Santa. We never correct her Clausology, not once clueing her in that Santa is fully aware she is going to fall short of perfect Good Girl status--and that he will nevertheless bestow on her some wrapped and be-ribboned toys come that great gettin'-up morning, December 25. Prevenient grace is a bit tough to grasp at two years old, especially in conjunction with all the rules of conduct being handed down.

Which may be why we parents start with Santa after all: It's more comfortable to make the elf from the North Pole into a loving but strict accountant of all good and bad deeds than it is to distort Christ that way. And yet the parents of a toddler desperately needs such an accountant during the Christmas season, a third partner whose watchful eye on the mindful two year old will give them half a chance of getting the cards written, the presents bought, the carols sung, the gingerbread made, and everything and everyone delivered to the right place at the right time. And so Santa becomes the unseen babysitter hovering in the background.

We might eventually be able to capitalize on Edith's current interests to get a little Bethlehem in there, too. Today on the way home from school she mused, "I'm waiting for lots of things. I'm waiting for Christmas, and I'm waiting for a baby sister to be in your belly." I replied that by that standard, Christmas would be coming in the blink of an eye. But about babies...