Advent Calendars With A Side of Sweet Revenge

When my son Justin was little, we had an Advent calendar. It was a wooden box I bought at a thrift store, which had twenty-five little drawers that opened to reveal whatever I had tucked inside.

I’m not even sure it was meant to be an Advent calendar. The drawers were small and didn’t have much room for anything but small trinkets or candy. Finding twenty-five days' worth of surprises was challenging, so I resorted to whatever inexpensive drawer-sized junk I could find at the Dollar Store. Once I was stuffing a little plastic dinosaur in there, and no matter what I tried, the T. rex’s head kept poking out. It just felt like too much.

The holidays always felt like too much back then. In those days, there was added pressure to teach Justin the true meaning of Christmas and gratitude, which I failed miserably at because the greed, whining, and lack of perspective surrounding that Advent box were endless.

After he tried to empty all its contents one afternoon - because he wanted all the prizes NOW! - I had no choice but to hide the box in a closet until it was time to open a drawer.

There was actually a moment, partway through December, when I fantasized about throwing that box out the window.  I could almost feel the brief, savage joy of it - lifting it out of its hiding place in the closet, throwing it out the bedroom window, and watching it break into shards on the driveway. “That! Is What! Happens! When! You! Aren’t! Grateful!” I’d shout, nonsensically, after the splintering crash.

Of course, I didn’t do that. Instead, we came up with a solution where Justin had his bath and then got to open a drawer IF he was a good boy. He was always excited about that, but sometimes I’d watch the way he grabbed whatever I’d taken the time and buy and cram in there and then stop giving a shit about it in like…oh…less than a minute. It was just taken for granted, and okay, I didn’t expect my five-year-old to stand dreamy-eyed in front of a package of Swedish Fish (most likely a Halloween leftover) and reflect on the magic of the holidays, but damn.

Around that time, Justin was old enough to make and obsess over his Santa Wish List, but didn’t grasp that it wasn’t a situation where he would end up with every item neatly stacked under the tree on Christmas morning. The one truly generous thing he did that year was help pick through his outgrown toys to donate, although he cried I want my toys!  I love my toys! When we actually did donate them, making me want to scream, this-is-the-right-thing-to-do-so-stop-crying-and-learn-the-damn-lesson! Once he calmed down, he said he wanted to write a letter to Santa about how he bravely gave away his toys, just so Santa was, like, aware, and come on, dude, who do you think you’re fooling?

All that to say, this year I’ve restarted the Advent calendar tradition with my grandchildren. I don’t know what happened to that stupid antique box that really was a pain in my ass, so thank goodness for Amazon. This year, my granddaughter is getting a princess-themed calendar, with each day revealing a tiny plastic princess or a tiny plastic dress to wear. Her brother, who is two months old, gets a Disney book calendar, which means my granddaughter technically gets TWO calendars this year. I just gave both calendars to my son to “enjoy” with the kids all month.

You may call it carrying on a beautiful Christmas tradition, but I’m over here quietly chuckling, thinking of it as karmic justice. It’s like the universe handed me a tiny, perfectly wrapped slice of payback—sprinkled with glitter and tiny princess dresses and wrapped with a Christmas bow.