You gotta know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em

Classic Mom-poker move: "I'm calling Santa!"

You know this one. I didn't invent it and neither did your mother. It's an oldie and a goodie. It's usually valid November 1 - December 24 and can almost guarantee 6 - 8 weeks of clean plates and clean rooms....but not in MY house.

I pulled out the old "i'm calling Santa" card last night in an effort to get Gavin to put on his pajamas. I don't know what went wrong. Maybe I have a "tell"...you know, a little eye-twitch, a tone of voice...something that lets your opponent know you've got nothin'...anyway, he called me out and threw down a killer hand: "I don't want any presents anyway. I have enough toys."

Fuck.

So of course, he raised me and I've got nothing but I bet a lot of my chips on that last one so what am I gonna do? I go all in. I pick up the phone. I dial Mark's cell (he's driving his mother to Eenie's...you remember Eenie's, right/ HEAVEN!)

Mark: Hullo?
Me: Hi...SANTA.
Mark: Wha? Oh for frig sakes Ella
Me: What's that? Oh you've been watching?
Mark: What's he doing?
Me: Yes that's right. Won't put on his pajamas and being rude to Mom.
Mark: SIGH
Me: Yes, yes Santa I tried a time out but he's still being pretty rude
Mark: Whatever. Bye.
Me: Oh, ok. I'll tell him. Bye SANTA!

Gavin (head cocked, looking at me like I'm a total idiot): Look Mom. I believe in Santa and everything, but I don;t believe that you called him.
This is the equivalent of a call.
Me (not ready to fold): Wha! But! Yeah well then who did I just speak to then?
Gavin (NOT having any of my BS): I dunno. Dad maybe. Zoe. Maybe nobody. I just know you didn't call Santa

Fuck.

Me: yeah well believe what you want. Santa still sees your behaviour and I'm sure he doesn't like it.
Gavin: Don't care.
Me: you better be careful what you say Bud. Santa will think you mean it.
Gavin: I DO mean it. Look (raises face to the ceiling and speaks loudly) Santa, I DO. NOT. WANT. ANY. PRESENTS. I have enough stuff. I mean it!

Fuck.

Well, that's ok though. He'll sleep it off and in the morning he'll be all like oh no I didn't mean it I want lots of presents!

This morning:
Me: Hey sweetie. Don;t worry. Santa knows you were just mad last night and that you don;t really mean what you said.
Gavin: Oh no I totally mean it. I mean, I can't think of anything I actually want this year.
Me: But...!
Gavin: Mom, I do want stuff, but just not bad enough to have to behave all the time, ok?

Fuck.


Did I mention I hate Christmas?