Cynical Four Year Old

I had the nerve to ask what the pictured contraption above was. 

“It’s my car, dad,” the four year old informed me. It was like I asked him what an apple was the answer was so obvious.  How I missed the vinegar box, couch cushion, pool noodle light sabers car I will never know. 

“What are the blocks for?” I asked of the “Jumbo Jenga” blocks sitting in the vinegar bottle box. 

“Those are presents I need to deliver,” he said as he started up the car. 

“Oh, cool. Are you Santa?” I asked. 

At this point of the conversations I am fully prepared for more sass and back talk than a standard chat with a teenager. So I ready myself for another moody reply. 

“No, dad, I’m the mail man,” he said. 

He scoffed at the thought of being Santa. Just over a month to Christmas and he’s playing a present delivery game I thought it safe to assume he was playing Santa. No. No he was not. That would be ridiculous. 

I’m pretty sure he believes in the Santa stuff. He believes Weeping Angels are real, so Santa seems a good easy enough. I hope he believes in the story. Keeping that innocence beyond the age of four would be really great. I don’t know what I’d do next year with a nihilist five year old. 

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