Brian Kantz, Buffalo, NY-based writer and editor

THE NEWBIE DAD - DECEMBER 2007

ONE DAD’S CHRISTMAS WISH LIST

Dear Santa Claus,

I know that I haven’t written in many years, but I thought it was time to drop you a line. You see, I was just thinking about when I was a kid. Every year at Christmastime, as my brothers and I paged through toy catalogs and made our lengthy and detailed wish lists, we wondered why our dad didn’t do the same. “I don’t really need or want anything,” he would explain. As greedy little children, we just couldn’t accept that. Didn’t need or want anything? What was wrong with that man? “You’ve got to tell Santa something! He has to have something to go on,” we implored. “No, really, I’m fine,” dad would reply.

When Christmas morning finally arrived, we’d tear down the stairs and tear into the packages like a pack of rabid wolverines. And there would sit dad, watching calmly. Scouring through the debris for any smaller items we may have missed, my oldest brother would say, “Whoa, look, here’s one for dad.” One for dad. Even though he hadn’t asked for a thing, you brought him something, Santa. “Open it up!” we’d all yell excitedly. “OK, OK.” Dad slowly ripped into the finely wrapped package. He stuck his hand in and pulled out… the suspense was killing us… a six-pack of black dress socks. “Oh, look at that!” he would say with actual appreciation.

“Unbelievable. He must have been really bad this year,” my oldest brother whispered. “Well, he deserved that,” one of the other brothers said. “Why didn’t he just tell Santa what he really wanted for Christmas? I mean it’s not Santa’s fault if you make him guess what you want.”

Anyhow, to make a long story short, Santa, I didn’t want to put you in that position again. I know it can be tough to guess what someone wants. So, even though I’m a dad now and I’m not supposed to need or want anything, I’m submitting my list. It’s lengthy and detailed — just like when I was a kid — and I hope it helps.

1. Five pairs of pants — three casual and two dressy. Yes, this may seem a lot like an ultra-boring “black dress socks” request, but when you’ve got little kids, especially boys, you end up spending hours on your knees, playing on the floor. There’s wrestling, playing with toy trucks, more wrestling. The end result: worn-out knees in every single pair of pants you own. Santa, I have to tell you, it’s kind of embarrassing going to a wedding in a navy blue suit, with your knobby kneecaps visible through the frayed fabric.

2. Easy Bake Oven. Believe me, after three years of being a stay-at-home dad, I’m past being hung-up on gender stereotypes. Give me that little oven and I’ll be eating three-inch-round apples pies every afternoon while the kids sleep. I bet you could even warm up some bacon in that thing. Mmm-mmm.

3. John Deere tractor. Not one of those little ride-on mowers, Santa. I’m talking the real deal: a 9030 Series bad boy with 530 horses, CommandView Cab and GreenStar 2 guidance system. I’m tired of my old mower with a 20-inch cut. With a full-sized Deere, I could mow my suburban lawn in three swaths, lay down some weed-and-feed, and be done in four minutes flat.

4. A pair of lime green Crocs. Not! Just kidding, Santa. You wouldn’t be caught dead in those things would you? Me neither. Rubber shoes, I mean, c’mon. When kids wear them, that’s one thing, but grown-ups bopping around in those? I guarantee, in 10 years tops, they’ll be hanging alongside Zubaz pants in the Fashion Hall of Shame.

5. A little bit of magic dust. Cheech and Chong let this little secret out of the bag in their now-famous “Santa Claus and His Old Lady” bit. They said your reindeer fly by the power of “magic dust.” I’m assuming this substance can work wonders on all kinds of animals. Would magic dust, for instance, give my dog the ability to provide responsible supervision of our two children? This would be great — my wife and I could maybe catch a movie every now and then, with no need to pay a babysitter — knowing that the boys were in good hands, or paws. Let me know.

Well, thanks again, Santa, and best of luck this holiday season. Hope you don’t run into too many beard-pullers in the mall.

Sincerely,

Brian from Amherst, New York


Brian Kantz



		© 2008 Brian Kantz • All rights reserved • Contact Brian

	THE NEWBIE DAD - DECEMBER 2007 ONE DAD’S CHRISTMAS WISH LIST Dear Santa Claus, I know that I haven’t written in many years, but I thought it was time to drop you a line. You see, I was just thinking about when I was a kid. Every year at Christmastime, as my brothers and I paged through toy catalogs and made our lengthy and detailed wish lists, we wondered why our dad didn’t do the same. “I don’t really need or want anything,” he would explain. As greedy little children, we just couldn’t accept that. Didn’t need or want anything? What was wrong with that man? “You’ve got to tell Santa something! He has to have something to go on,” we implored. “No, really, I’m fine,” dad would reply. When Christmas morning finally arrived, we’d tear down the stairs and tear into the packages like a pack of rabid wolverines. And there would sit dad, watching calmly. Scouring through the debris for any smaller items we may have missed, my oldest brother would say, “Whoa, look, here’s one for dad.” One for dad. Even though he hadn’t asked for a thing, you brought him something, Santa. “Open it up!” we’d all yell excitedly. “OK, OK.” Dad slowly ripped into the finely wrapped package. He stuck his hand in and pulled out… the suspense was killing us… a six-pack of black dress socks. “Oh, look at that!” he would say with actual appreciation. “Unbelievable. He must have been really bad this year,” my oldest brother whispered. “Well, he deserved that,” one of the other brothers said. “Why didn’t he just tell Santa what he really wanted for Christmas? I mean it’s not Santa’s fault if you make him guess what you want.” Anyhow, to make a long story short, Santa, I didn’t want to put you in that position again. I know it can be tough to guess what someone wants. So, even though I’m a dad now and I’m not supposed to need or want anything, I’m submitting my list. It’s lengthy and detailed — just like when I was a kid — and I hope it helps. 1. Five pairs of pants — three casual and two dressy. Yes, this may seem a lot like an ultra-boring “black dress socks” request, but when you’ve got little kids, especially boys, you end up spending hours on your knees, playing on the floor. There’s wrestling, playing with toy trucks, more wrestling. The end result: worn-out knees in every single pair of pants you own. Santa, I have to tell you, it’s kind of embarrassing going to a wedding in a navy blue suit, with your knobby kneecaps visible through the frayed fabric. 2. Easy Bake Oven. Believe me, after three years of being a stay-at-home dad, I’m past being hung-up on gender stereotypes. Give me that little oven and I’ll be eating three-inch-round apples pies every afternoon while the kids sleep. I bet you could even warm up some bacon in that thing. Mmm-mmm. 3. John Deere tractor. Not one of those little ride-on mowers, Santa. I’m talking the real deal: a 9030 Series bad boy with 530 horses, CommandView Cab and GreenStar 2 guidance system. I’m tired of my old mower with a 20-inch cut. With a full-sized Deere, I could mow my suburban lawn in three swaths, lay down some weed-and-feed, and be done in four minutes flat. 4. A pair of lime green Crocs. Not! Just kidding, Santa. You wouldn’t be caught dead in those things would you? Me neither. Rubber shoes, I mean, c’mon. When kids wear them, that’s one thing, but grown-ups bopping around in those? I guarantee, in 10 years tops, they’ll be hanging alongside Zubaz pants in the Fashion Hall of Shame. 5. A little bit of magic dust. Cheech and Chong let this little secret out of the bag in their now-famous “Santa Claus and His Old Lady” bit. They said your reindeer fly by the power of “magic dust.” I’m assuming this substance can work wonders on all kinds of animals. Would magic dust, for instance, give my dog the ability to provide responsible supervision of our two children? This would be great — my wife and I could maybe catch a movie every now and then, with no need to pay a babysitter — knowing that the boys were in good hands, or paws. Let me know. Well, thanks again, Santa, and best of luck this holiday season. Hope you don’t run into too many beard-pullers in the mall. Sincerely, Brian from Amherst, New York