Is Santa Claus Real?

Is Santa Claus Real?

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I have a friend who's raising his 5 year old grandson (his wife is mostly doing the work, but that's not important right now). Now this kid, let's call him Dave, he's an absolute monster. He's a total fucking asshole at 5 years old, already has an entitled attitude, and doesn't appreciate anything that's given to him or done for him. Imho, I don't even think giving Dave the chancla on a regular basis will straighten him out at this point, he's too far gone. He's lazy, he throws fake crying tantrums when he doesn't get his way, he's smug, tries (and mostly fails) to insult and get in burns on adults, and he constantly tests the adults around him to see how far he can push them. I personally hate this kid as much as it's possible to hate a kid.

As a result, last year, on Christmas Eve, when Dave was FOUR YEARS OLD, mind you, one of his uncles told him Santa wasn't real, just to ruin Christmas for him. His uncle told Dave that it's Grandpa buying all the presents. I'm sure the uncle just had enough of this kid's shit for one night, and did the one thing he knew would really hurt. It was a fucked up thing to do, but I'm pretty sure the uncle suffered quite a bit of provocation.

Anyway, this year rolls around, and I go to visit my old friend and his wife, and of course Dave is there. Now, my friend has been telling me for weeks how much worse things are this year, because Dave's not even trying to be good. Last year, they had Elf On A Shelf, and that was pretty effective at keeping Dave in line; this year, it's just another piece of Christmas crap cluttering up the house. So, knowing that I wouldn't be getting through the Christmas season without a Dave encounter, I put some thought into it ahead of time, and came up with an idea.

I asked Dave, "What do you want Santa to bring you for Christmas this year?" Dave got a smug little smirk on his face that made me want to slap him.
"Santa isn't real. EVERYBODY knows THAT," he said scornfully.
"So, who do you think buys you all the presents every year?" I asked. The rude little bastard didn't even answer, just pointed at his Grandpa. He was starting to get a self-satisfied twinkle in his eyes; he thinks he's won.
"What if Grandpa doesn't want to buy you presents this year, because you're bad all the time?" I asked. Dave got a shit-eating grin on his face.
"He HAS to buy me presents, or I'll cry, and I won't stop crying until he gets me something!" he proclaimed triumphantly. I let this pass, for the moment.
"And who else is going to buy you presents for Christmas this year?" I prompted. He thought about it for a moment.
"My mama (biological deadbeat mom) bought me something last year. And Grandma, she'll get me something. And YOU'LL probably get me something, because you did last year!" I didn't bother to tell him that I'm not getting him fuckall this year; that will keep for Christmas morning.
"OK, and if there's no Santa, who's judging whether you're naughty or nice?" I prompted.
"Nobody!" he answered immediately. I shook my head from side to side slowly.
"No, Dave, I'm afraid that's the wrong answer," I sascornful.

Now Dave was angry, and became aggressive and rude.
"That's stupid! There's no Santa! There's nobody saying I'm naughty or nice! You're just being dumb!" Dave said, quite loudly. I shook my head again.
"Let me ask you something, Dave. Did your uncle get you something last year?" Taken aback, the thought about it for a minute, then shook his head no.
"And he ruined Christmas Eve, by telling you there was no Santa, right? You cried most of the night, right?" Dave thought it over and shook his head in agreement.
"Well, it sounds to me like your uncle judged you as naughty because he didn't get you a present, and ruined Christmas Eve for you, isn't that right?"

Some of Dave's confidence leaked away. An idea was forming in his head, an idea he definitely didn't like, but he shoved it away before it was fully formed.
"It doesn't matter if Uncle buys me anything or not, because Grandpa will buy me even MORE presents! I don't need Uncle's stinky old presents!" he said arrogantly. I shook my head again.
"Dave, what if your Grandpa buys you a really nice gift, then when you're bad, he takes it back, and buys you something cheaper? You'd never know, right?" I could see the doubt forming in Dave's eyes, so I pressed on.
"What if Grandma and Grandpa were going to buy you TWENTY presents, but because you were bad, they changed their minds, and only bought you ten? You'd never know, right?"

Dave was starting to get a crestfallen look on his face. Meanwhile, my friend, Dave's Grandpa, was looking more animated than I'd seen him in months, and I could tell he was holding back a laugh.
"And what if you were GOOD, Dave, and all your uncles bought you presents, and all the family friends bought you presents, and you got THIRTY presents for Christmas, huh?" I asked.
"I WANT THIRTY PRESENTS!" Dave demanded quickly, doing his best Veruca Salt impression. I shook my head from side to side gravely.
"I'm afraid it's too late for that, Dave. See, in a way, Santa IS real. He lives in the minds of ALL the adults around you. THEY'RE the ones judging if you're naughty or nice. THEY'RE the ones who decide if you get expensive presents or cheap presents. THEY'RE the ones that decide if you get thirty presents, or if you only get ten. And Dave, with the way you're going? You could work your way all the way down to five, if you keep it up." I could see the horror in his eyes. He finally realized how he'd played himself. It was BEAUTIFUL to see, it was a Christmas miracle, and the greatest gift I've ever given to my friend, his Grandpa. The end.
 
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