February Fool

Once again I had thought myself to have given a perfect rendition of Father Christmas: the omniscient (almost there), fat (oh well), sexless (I guess that is sort of crucial to the roll) octogenarian (half way there...) who is vexingly smart (...), because he knows not only about every mishap but also happens to know the most ardent wishes of his little devotees. From skateboards to triple ball bearing diablos, from sowing kits to purple tutus, from remote controlled helicopters to friendship books and scooters, the guy knows not only what kids want, but where to get it. And so did I. A few months later, however, Jules wonders why on Earth Santa didn’t know that all that cool stuff he brought turned out to be absolute garbage. The remote helicopter didn’t last three minutes before the back propeller broke off (utterly not Jules’ fault), the scooter lost its break pedal within a month and the beginner sowing machine never sowed a stitch, because the needle it came with was bent, and I am just waiting for the diablo string to snap any minute now... However, the friendship book still works...