Virtual Santa Claus Is Comin' to Zoom

Last night we paid $25 for a shockingly short virtual Santa visit with the kids. I say “shockingly short” because I clearly didn’t read the fine print (less shocking) and somehow expected Santa to stick around long enough for us all to feel like good friends at the end.

Long story shorter than our Santa visit, it was five minutes of cringe-worthy conversation with Will challenging Santa to prove he knows everything, Mia shoving the dogs’ faces into the screen, and Ben and I sitting behind the computer yell-whispering, “LISTEN!” and, “BE. NICE.” Be nice to Santa. Something I didn’t think I’d ever have to ask my kids to do, even if this was a virtual visit with Santa.

Upon Santa signing off as fast as his jolly fingers would allow him to, I immediately felt embarrassed. Which is a feeling I often feel and one I need to dig into at a different time because it’s inappropriate. But it’s how I felt. I felt like Will had been a jerk and worried our Santa had hated him.

Will had used “the voice” and “that face” that he often feels the need to employ in front of people (which is not his real voice nor his real face and makes him sound and look like a disrespectful robot) and he had tried to call out Santa as a fraud, had talked about things like horror cartoon characters with bloody faces, and had rolled his eyes at Santa’s background which, in his opinion, was “too white and should have been all wood.”

All in all, not generally Santa’s Lap type of talk. And I could tell Santa was uncomfortable. Or I think he was. Or at least I assume he was. Or maybe I just was.

Soon after, a friend shared the following post from ScaryMommy on Instagram and I felt compelled to share it, also. Something I don’t often do. But it highlighted something I’ve been struggling with and I wanted those thoughts out in the world:

“On behalf of moms with ADHD kids, please teach your children about the odd kids, the hyper kids, the moody and impulsive ones why can’t sit still and sometimes can’t wait their turn. They look the same as other kids, so often times they are ostracized or labeled as “bad,” because their symptoms are seen as a character flaw rather than an actual medical condition. Spread the word about inclusion, and that differences aren’t always obvious.”

It clearly struck a nerve within my friend group as it started racking up “likes” and comments immediately. And I realized, in looking at the list of mostly moms with whom it had resonated, that many of them had kids with special needs, too. And I realized that they, too, maybe wanted those words out there.

I struggle with Will’s ADHD diagnosis and treatment in so many ways. And yes, I realize I am making this about me. And I don’t care because it’s real and I think I’m not alone in this. His challenges affect all of us and I need to be able to discuss the impact it has on me sometimes, too.

His disability is so often misunderstood. By family members. By his friends. By his teachers. By us. It’s an invisible disability. You don’t look at him and think, “That child clearly has some special needs and, while it’s not pretty, he’s doing the best he can right now.” Instead, you see him challenging Santa, exploding on a Google Meet with his class because his teacher won’t answer his question immediately, or yelling and throwing things in the front yard for all the world to see.

You see a kid with no manners. With bad parents. Who is obviously spoiled and never told “no.” You see a kid who has been given in to time and time again, who has learned to throw a fit to get what he wants, who is the center of the family because his parents are dysfunctional. You see chaos and mess and rude and weird. And it breaks my heart. And it makes me mad. And it embarrasses me.

So, yes, the ScaryMommy post struck a nerve. Because I know what I immediately think when I see older kids acting out in Target. I know what I immediately think when my students repeatedly don’t turn in their homework and Mom and Dad are late to the meeting we have in place to discuss it. I know where my mind goes when I hear yelling in the background while my coworker is trying to discuss work with me. And it isn’t, “That child clearly has special needs and, while it isn’t pretty, he is clearly doing the best he can right now.”

Speaking of kids trying to do their best, Mia did ask Santa at the end of the too-short-for-$25-visit how he “got his magic.” He responded that magic was something you just have, not something you get. (Good answer, Santa.) He then went on a birdwalk about how the elves have magic and it eventually wore off on him, which seemed to contradict his earlier point about not getting magic, but whatever. It had been a rough five minutes for him.

My hope though, is that Santa’s (stolen?) magic allows him to see past the symptoms of ADHD into a kid like Will and realize that he’s beautiful and kind and smart and funny and, while it’s not always pretty, he’s always doing the best he can.

The post I had shared on social media was a plea to others to somehow find that ability, too.

Once we start doing that, we realize that we can’t just place kids on the nice or naughty list anymore. Because even simple lists are often way more complicated than we realize.