My friend called me to complain. Her husband was blaming her because their daughter had broken her leg while riding a motorbike owned by another friend’s kids.

Friend: “Just because I told [Daughter] she could ride the motorbike bike, he’s blaming me because she crashed.”

Me: “Had she ridden a motorbike before?”

Friend: “No, but she can ride a bicycle, and she is fourteen. [Other Friend]’s kids are eight and ten, and they can ride it. Being older, she should know how to ride it better than them.”

Me: “But haven’t they been riding mini bikes since they were three years old?”

Friend: *Snapping* “You, too? That’s what [Husband] said. I thought you would be sympathetic. She’s older than them!”

She hung up, and that was the last time she spoke to me.

I am at home with my mom for the Christmas holidays. My girlfriend is at her mom’s. At one point, she sends a text to my mom with well wishes, followed by a string of emojis.

Mom: “What does this mean?”

I look and see a chicken drumstick, an eggplant, and a heart, and I’m equally as confused as she is.

Me: “…eat, play, love?”

When I was seven or so, I went to my mom around dinnertime to ask her the most important question of them all.

Me: “Mom? Can I ask you something very serious?”

My mom put down the cooking and turned to me.

Mom: “Of course! What’s up?”

Me: “Is Santa real?”

Mom: “Is… well, you know, it depends?”

Me: “On what?”

Mom: “Um… I mean… You know, like, some things are more true if you believe in them. Like we talked about yesterday, that things like justice isn’t something that you find in nature but make by believing in it.”

Me: “Okay?”

Mom: “So… Many things are like that. Do you believe in Santa?”

Me: “I don’t know. I think so?”

Mom: “Then I think so too.”

Me: “Good! Then you can tell me how Santa can get presents to all kids at the same time? [Older Brother] told me that it is physically impossible for someone to be everywhere at once, and Christmas is the same day in the whole world. Based upon that there are like, at least one million kids in the world, how does Santa be everywhere at once? And magic isn’t real, you told me that last week.”

Mom pondered this for a moment until she very seriously said:

Mom: “Well, there’s multiple Santas.”

Me: “What? Really?”

Mom: “They have divided the world into Santa Districts, and we all have our own Santa. Everyone celebrates Christmas the same day, but we get presents at different times and so one Santa can visit a reasonable amount of homes every Christmas.”

Me: “Really?”

Mom: “They are all part of the Santa Guild, a sort of labour union for Santas, and they spend the rest of the year working for the Post Office.”

Me: “Wow! Thanks mom!”

And off I went to play. I figured it out before the next Christmas, but the “Santa Guild” kept on being a family meme ever since. I still think that this is the most reasonable solution to the Santa problem!

I have dwarfism, and this often leads to weird interactions in public, especially with kids. Sometimes a kid comes up to me to ask me why I’m so short, and I have a prepared response for that, but most of the time, they just loudly ask their parents why I’m so short. Usually, the parents will awkwardly drag their kids away, telling them not to comment on people in public, which is sad but understandable. I like the parents who just say something about how some people are born like this, and even though we look a bit different, we’re still regular people just like everyone else. Sometimes I hear a gem like, “I bet he shrank in the wash.”

What I can’t stand is when people try to use me to parent their kids. I’m sure you can think of ways to convince your kids to finish their plate at dinner that don’t involve pointing at a dwarf in public and saying, “That’s what happens when you leave food on your plate,” or, “He didn’t listen to his mommy when she told him to eat all his vegetables.” It’s rude, it’s humiliating, and it teaches your kid that differences are a bad thing and that people are at fault for their differences or disabilities. It just pisses me off.

A few days ago, I was in public and a kid who was maybe four or five years old was acting out, and his mom was clearly struggling to keep him under control. She pointed to me.

Woman: “That’s one of Santa’s elves. He’s watching you, and he’ll tell Santa about your behavior.”

The kid’s name was on a key ring on his backpack.

Me: “It’s okay, [Kid]. You’re already on the nice list, and Santa told me you’re getting an iPad this Christmas.”

The kid was excited. His mom was not.

I have been the person shopping at ridiculous hours on Christmas Eve. In my defence, it really wasn’t my fault!

Some years back, my husband and I drove down on Christmas Eve to join my parents for the holiday. Mum immediately assigned us tree decoration duty, so we were upstairs digging boxes of decorations out of the spare room when we heard the sounds of other people arriving. We came downstairs to the delightful but confusing sight of my sister and her five children walking in the front door. Delightful, because they live in a different country and we only get to see them maybe once every second year. Confusing, because we didn’t know they were coming this year… and because we didn’t know they’d be there, we hadn’t brought them any presents. We were planning to ship them later.

My sister’s four older children were all in their late teens or early twenties, and theoretically, we could have told them, “Oh, heck, we didn’t know. We’ll have to give you an IOU!” Her youngest child, on the other hand, was four or five at the time, and we weren’t going to do that to him. (And to be honest, even if the others would have been fine with it, we would have felt terrible.)

Me: “Oh, hey! Excellent timing! [Youngest], you guys are just in time to decorate the tree! Here’s the tinsel and ornaments. You guys have fun! Great to see you, Sis; WHAT A SURPRISE! Honey, I forgot something; WE HAVE TO GO SHOPPING!”

Mum: “What? Now? Can’t it wait until Boxing Day? They just got here; you can’t—”

Me: “NOW.”

We raided the mall like a pair of desperate Vikings — extra desperate because it was seven pm… in a small country town that usually shuts down completely at five pm and on weekends… on Christmas Eve… which fell on a Sunday that year. We honestly expected nothing to be open, and on the way there, we came up with a fallback plan that involved getting cash out of an ATM and wrapping it up in silly ways to disguise it. Amazingly, though, half the shops were still open, and we actually managed to get good presents for everyone.

Later that night, I cornered Mum in the kitchen.

Me: “Why didn’t you tell us [Sister] and the kids were coming?!”

Mum: “What are you talking about? Of course, I told you! We’ve been planning it for ages!”

Me: “You might have been planning it for ages, but it wasn’t with us! The first we knew about it was when they walked in the door!”

Mum: “I told you! I’m sure I told you! Well… I think I told you… I was talking to your sister about it for months!”

Me: “Talking to her about something and expecting me to know about it worked when we all lived in the same house, but not anymore!”