Malika
Well-Known Member
(Subtitle: Thinking on Your Feet or A Sacrilegious Story)
Well, we are kind of new to this Christmas Malarkey... Four out of Jacob's five Christmases have been spent in Morocco where Christmas is, of course, noteable by its absence (much to the astonishment of many people who don't quite get that Muslim countries haven't gone in for the Great Shopping Fest er.... sorry, Birth of Jesus). So this is the first year he has been old enough to understand or get into the Father Christmas thing. He has taken to it quite enthusiastically and has been chattering about Santa coming down the chimney, writing letters to Santa and asking lots of questions about where Santa lives, how he travels around, etc. We had kind of established, along with the help of school stories, that Father Christmas comes down the chimney at Christmas and leaves presents.
Anyway, imagine J's confusion and consternation when today he saw not just one but two Father Christmases... one at the activity centre and the other at his tennis class. After collecting him from tennis, he had much to say about this conundrum and had reached his own conclusions. One was false, he declared, the other real. How could he tell, I asked? Because (of course), one was wearing shoes (false) and the other boots (real). So far so good... however, back at home, he began to ask the unanswerable question, his sense of logic clearly outraged: today was not Christmas day so how could Santa have come today?
Thinking on my feet (and thinking of the awkwardness of being in Morocco with Moroccans who have none of all this and doing the whole Christmas present thing with J there), I decided to conduct a search for presents, to see whether Santa had indeed come today. In due course, and much to J's delight and astonishment, we found under my bed the two (unwrapped) presents that he had asked Santa for - a toy gun and a police car. How extraordinary! J kept shouting "Thank you Santa!" and wanted to write him a thank you letter, so I believe a tiny scrap of Christmas wonder was preserved.
I realise this tale will shock the die hard Santa-ists among you. But... you know... We are having to perform a delicate inter-religious, inter-cultural feat here
Well, we are kind of new to this Christmas Malarkey... Four out of Jacob's five Christmases have been spent in Morocco where Christmas is, of course, noteable by its absence (much to the astonishment of many people who don't quite get that Muslim countries haven't gone in for the Great Shopping Fest er.... sorry, Birth of Jesus). So this is the first year he has been old enough to understand or get into the Father Christmas thing. He has taken to it quite enthusiastically and has been chattering about Santa coming down the chimney, writing letters to Santa and asking lots of questions about where Santa lives, how he travels around, etc. We had kind of established, along with the help of school stories, that Father Christmas comes down the chimney at Christmas and leaves presents.
Anyway, imagine J's confusion and consternation when today he saw not just one but two Father Christmases... one at the activity centre and the other at his tennis class. After collecting him from tennis, he had much to say about this conundrum and had reached his own conclusions. One was false, he declared, the other real. How could he tell, I asked? Because (of course), one was wearing shoes (false) and the other boots (real). So far so good... however, back at home, he began to ask the unanswerable question, his sense of logic clearly outraged: today was not Christmas day so how could Santa have come today?
Thinking on my feet (and thinking of the awkwardness of being in Morocco with Moroccans who have none of all this and doing the whole Christmas present thing with J there), I decided to conduct a search for presents, to see whether Santa had indeed come today. In due course, and much to J's delight and astonishment, we found under my bed the two (unwrapped) presents that he had asked Santa for - a toy gun and a police car. How extraordinary! J kept shouting "Thank you Santa!" and wanted to write him a thank you letter, so I believe a tiny scrap of Christmas wonder was preserved.
I realise this tale will shock the die hard Santa-ists among you. But... you know... We are having to perform a delicate inter-religious, inter-cultural feat here