It happened innocently enough I suppose. My wife and three year old daughter were stopping by Pet Smart to pick up some dog food. It turns out they were having a sale on Guinea Pigs, and as luck would have it my daughter just loooves guinea pigs. She took this opportunity to hold them and pet them and become hopelessly attached to them. My wife managed to leave the store without a terribly upset kid by saying those special words, “maybe Santa will bring you one.”
From the day they left the pet store to today each time the girl has been asked what she wants for Christmas the answer is a guinea pig. It was very clear that I was in real trouble and needed some way out of this without being the bad guy. You see, I have no desire whatsoever to have a guinea pig in the house. They are a rodent like any other as far as I’m concerned.
The days went by and I don’t think one passed without someone mentioning that Santa may bring the guinea pig on Christmas to this devilishly cute, disarmingly manipulative, darling little girl. It began to be less about the girl and more about getting at her father, namely me. My wife, my mother-in-law, Aunts and neighbors would all mention the promise of the guinea pig while suspiciously looking at me as the words would leave there mouth. I was obviously out numbered and needed something good to get out of this. And then it dawned on me.
The girl had yet to have a picture with Santa. The big guy was cool as long as he was dropping off gifts in the middle of the night but the moment he wanted to get all up close and personal she wanted no part of him, and we never pushed the issue. This was gold.
I say to the girl, “I think Santa will bring you that guinea pig if you tell him you want one when we visit him in a few days. What do you think?” She acted like she was fine with it, but I knew better. She was sure to crumble under the pressure when the moment struck. I was in the clear.
A day or two pass and mom and the girl are writing a card to Santa. All the card says is, Santa please bring me a guinea pig. The card is decorated with stickers and lots of love and sent on its way to Santa’s village. I choose to ignore this little event until days later when the visit with Santa is upon us.
There isn’t a line to see Santa as we stop by during the week in the middle of the day. We all slowly circle the miniature village in the center of the mall, allowing the girls to peek at Santa and get used to him before getting too close. It turns out we could have circled the old guy for an hour and there was no way these girls were going to see Santa. They just didn’t want to do it. Fine by me. We tell them we’ll try again next year and work our way back to the car. As we walk to the car my wife mouths the question to me, No guinea pig? I reply in kind with a grin and a shake of the head. No, no guinea pig.
The next day, after dinner, my wife mentions that her mother thinks I’m mean for not allowing the guinea pig. I reply with, ‘tough’ we had an agreement. My wife nods her head and says she knows and then she follows up with this…
… I’d hate for her (the girl) to not like Santa as a result of this, or feel like she did something wrong. I mean, she did write him a letter asking for the guinea pig even is she didn’t tell him in person.
I’m not going to win this am I? It seems I need to see a man about a guinea pig.
* Christmas has come and gone. Want to hear the end of this story? There is an update in the comments! Happy New Year! – 12/28/2007