I would love to show this picture to my pre-Dmitri self, the one who told people to try to stick to organic cotton, hemp, and non-toxic wood when buying gifts for us. Just let me for one moment see the constipated, horrified expression on her face!
Yes, it may have been made in a sweatshop. Yes, it's a potential landfill-clogger. (Sorry, and sorry again.) Yes, it totally destroys any aesthetically-pure household image that I was previously attached to projecting. (Not at all sorry about that one.)
But for Dmitri, this vinyl-clad Santa on a motorcycle singing country Christmas carols is JOY. Pure joy. Pre-Dmitri self would have also been concerned about promoting cultural myths of Santa, consumerism associated with said myth. Now I just love the red guy. Phew! What a relief to get over self in this particular way.
It's been an interesting journey to having our very own Santa Claus is a -comin'. It all started on You Tube, one Christmas video leading to another, until we fixed upon this Santa Claus/motorcycle thing. Do you know how many Santa Clauses on motorcycles are out there? The two most popular musical accompaniments are "Santa Claus is a-Comin'" and "Born to Be Wild," just in case you're interested.
We watched these videos for months before Dmitri decided that he simply must have his own. We have a motorcycle that sings "Born to Be Wild" (doesn't everyone?) and we have a Santa Claus in the attic, so we thought we could just plop Santa on motorcycle. No. Santa must remain in the attic, on the stairs. We can and do open the door and look at him, but he is not allowed downstairs under any circumstances.
I had the very bright idea of visiting a store called The Christmas Tree Shoppe. Silly me, I thought we'd enter a schlocky holiday wonderland and perhaps get our Santa fix. There was no Christmas stuff in there! What kind of world is this? Flip-flops and dishes, yes. Santa, no.
So then we turned to the internet and picked out our Santa. Let the waiting begin. We had a countdown ( I picked ten days just to be safe) and discussed in the meantime all the things that were happening to his Santa Claus. They put him in the box. They mailed him. Maybe he went on a plane. He definitely went on a truck. He went to our post office. Then Cheryl (our mail carrier) would bring him to us.
At first, he would tell us that he was going to go in the bedroom to wait for Cheryl. Gonna be a long wait, buddy. Then he got into the day thing.
Today we were saying that Cheryl would probably bring him in five days, when he arrived. Joy, awe, reverence, singing. Right now Santa Claus is watching Dmitri eat lunch. (See all the kid-killing plastic that made its way onto our sacred table?) We are not allowed to put the batteries in yet. One thing at a time.