SERGEANT Major Santa is doing a great job in the Ord household.
Where the lowly parents fail to command respect or any semblance of obedience from their charges, the bloke in the red bobble hat is working wonders.
I awoke this morning to find seven-year-old Isaac dressed in full school uniform standing by a fully made bed. It was 6am.
“I’ve made some Christmas baubles,” he said.
And there they were. Two cut-out circles of paper featuring a Santa and Christmas tree recreated in glorious felt tip. The thing’s they’ll do to keep off the naughty list.
He then raced downstairs to open his advent calendar. He stopped short of saluting the musical Santa we have hanging from the front door knob as he passed. It’s great to see the power of Santa at work. As much as it pains me to do it, I find I’m using the “Santa’s watching” threat way too often.
What having this omnipresent fat bloke in a beard monitoring his every movement does to Isaac’s brain I’m not too sure.
We logged onto one of those video message sites where Santa appears on your computer screen to deliver a personalised message to your kids.
You upload the child’s name, the present he wants for Christmas and a photo. It worked a treat.
Except that in the photo we used of Isaac, he had no top on.
“I’m naked,” he said. “Santa must have taken the picture while I was having a wee.”
Erm no. Santa wouldn’t do that.
“But he’s watching us all the time, you said,” insisted Isaac. “Even when we’re on the toilet.”
The conversation was going down an uncomfortable route. I could almost hear him recounting the story to his teacher of how Santa had taken photos of him as he sat naked on the loo with a cheery Ho, ho, ho.
“Look, son,” I said, “Santa didn’t take pictures of you on the toilet so let’s hear no more about it. Okay? You don’t want to end up on his naughty list. He’s watching you, erm, some of the time .