Phillip's Christmas Crisis: A Lesson In Story Telling

G’day! Today’s humble hero is Phillip, an absolute master in quick thinking. I have many of his exploits in mind but his handling of the Christmas ritual literally takes the cake. Actually talking about rituals reminds me just how important they are to our emotional survival. Just for a moment, think about your rituals over birthdays, Easter egg hunts, the Christmas symbols on the tree, the present opening format, your Sunday night dinners etc. Those rituals continue over the generations and in recent times, scientists are discovering the strong stabilizing role rituals play in our mental health.

One of those rituals in so many homes is the Santa visit, and this is where my friend Phillip was a master. His family’s ritual for Santa’s visit, dated back at least three generations but last year things went really wrong. Phillip’s family were devout Catholics. Their custom was for the whole extended family, about 30 in total, would get together at Phillip and Jan’s place Christmas Eve for a big BBQ, then the group would split up, some off home to bed and some to prepare for Santa and then some would go off to midnight mass. That meant each family would wake Christmas morning and perform their own routines and celebrate the wonder of wonders in their traditional way

In Phillip and Jan’s home and before the visitors arrived, the kids would help dad get everything set including the Christmas cake for Santa.

Every year, after the kids had gone to bed and before he went to Mass, it was Phillip’s job to eat half of Santa’s cake. Last year, things were rushed, the barbeque had been a bit of a culinary disaster, dad was hassled and in his haste forgot to attend to the eating of the cake ritual.

Now keep in mind that their son, Barney, aged seven, thought the sun, moon and stars shone out of Dad – Dad could do no wrong. But on Christmas morning the whole fabric of their faith came unstuck big time. The kids had gone out to check that Santa had been and left the presents and there was the cake untouched!

Barney raced in to his parents’ bedroom, tears streaming down his face and screaming at dad “you’re a liar. I don’t believe you anymore. There’s no Santa. We left out the cake for him and it’ still there. I hate you” and then ran back into his room howling his eyes out.

Jan touched Phillip on the arm and whispered, “I think it’s about time for you and Barney to have a big talk, he’s ready to know the truth.” Phillip climbed out of bed and trudged his way into his son’s room. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy. He entered and shut the door. Ten minutes later a much happier dad and a much brighter Barney emerged.

“Are you OK, son?”  asked his anxious mum.

“Yeah, I’m good, but I wish dad had told me that Santa was on a diet and couldn’t eat fruit cake!”

Well done, dad. Welcome to the Storytellers Hall Of Fame