When I was a kid, I would dream up completely insane presents to put on my Christmas wish list — shit that no parent could ever possibly afford and no child could ever possibly deserve. And every year, my parents would tell me before Christmas that I would NOT be getting the little race car I saw on the Obstacle Course round of Double Dare. They would sit me down and explain that Santa wasn’t a Formula One mechanic and that I shouldn’t be a fucking idiot.
The problem is that, on occasion, my parents DID get me something I wanted. But in order to keep it a surprise, they would play hard-to-get and tell me that I had no chance of getting Voltron, or whatever other stupid thing it was that I wanted.
I heard enough fake NOs from my mom over the years that I began to recognize the pattern and immediately assumed that NO meant YES. “Oh, mom says I have no chance of getting that hoverboard? IT’S MINE.” And then Christmas would come and I’d get a bag of fudge and hate the world.
Now I’m the parent and it’s my turn to engage in the futile task of managing my child’s expectations. This is the actual wish list that my daughter, who is 7, handed me a few weeks ago. It’s completely unreasonable and I have no way of explaining this to her without being a dick, or without her thinking I’m pulling some reverse-psychology shit on her. Let’s take a look at this Christmas wish list, item by item.