You Better Watch Out (Santa Claus is coming to town)

You’ve done it this time Santa. Okay so it wasn’t all your fault, but you are partially to blame for the sea of paper, cellophane and screeds and screeds of packaging that we have been swimming in since your clandestine visit late in December. Yes I know I can also blame the childless Uncles, and Aunties who brightened our doorway. “I wasn’t sure what to buy so I just bought them twelve presents each,” and “I hope they don’t already have their own personal computer.” Well funnily enough they don’t.
So there we sat literally in a mountain of Christmas debris. What has happened Santa, that every dam toy now has to be opened with pliers? Not to mention that they all require at least six batteries (not included of course).
Don’t laugh Santa, but in an effort to ease my environmental guilt I got the rellies ripping wrapping paper and soaking it in water to recycle it into homemade paper. Unfortunately, distracted by the incessant rounds of eating, drinking and cleaning up, my good intentions were overlooked and the large gluggy mound of mould was poured into the compost when discovered several weeks later.
Underneath the piles of paper I still had the toys to contend with. And yes Santa, we are as guilty as the rest. We laughed with a few friends about how we used to excitedly open our sock (forget the Santa sack) on Christmas morn and scream in delight at the orange and the banana Santa had left. As a child however, the joy of discovering a brand new rag doll on the end of my bed was somewhat dampened by that fact that Caroline Boon got a whole set of Barbies AND a Bride doll. (Didn’t Santa get my letter?). It was neatly explained that parents had to contribute to Santa’s costs and Caroline’s didn’t have as many brothers and sister’s presents to pay for as mine did.
So what happens to all this stuff? Well, thanks to Chinese manufacturing, many of it has fallen apart after the first try and it joins the mounds at the landfill. Under the dark of night, double-ups can be swept away and saved for the City Mission box next Christmas, while the forgotten few get put away for a boring winter day. But the bulk will litter the floors of the children’s bedrooms until we buy some more plastic to house them.
So Ho, Ho, Ho Santa, next year can you bring me a solution to my consumer woes without ruining the kids Christmas?