The Minnesota Farm Woman

My Christmas decorating is minimal, at best. Our tree is filled with lights and ornaments that were gifted to us through the years as well as three generations worth of handmade beauties. Beauty being in the eye of the beholder, of course. My favorite ornament is not one that hangs on the tree, though. Many years ago, my daughter’s school project was a Santa Claus made out of a bleach bottle, cut in half with a glued-on felt hat, glued-on felt smile, and googly eyes. He has had a place of honor in my home each and every year, much to the consternation of my daughter. I don’t know if it was accidentally or on purpose, but my little artist created Santa’s yarn hair longer on one side than the other, which makes him look like he either has a mullet or was once kicked out of a 90’s hair band. Sometimes I hang Bleach Bottle Santa on the front door, sometimes I hang him in a window, and sometimes my daughter hides him where he can’t be found. This year, I took a picture of Bleach Bottle Santa and posted it on Facebook for all the world to see. I think her response was a very Grinch-like “Ugh!”. I have been hoping in 20+ Christmases, he would begin to grow on her, because really, around here, it’s not Christmas until Bleach Bottle Santa comes out of the box. He was there the year that HE and SHE picked out a Christmas tree so huge that there wasn’t room around the dining room table and a few of us were stabbed in the back by pine branches all during Christmas dinner. He was there when I turned on the air conditioning so I could have a fire in the fireplace in our Florida home. He was there the year my mother died just before Christmas when nobody felt much holiday spirit, but Christmas came anyway, and along with it, the joy and the celebration of a life well-lived. In what seems like the blink of an eye, he has presided over middle-school crushes, boyfriends, fiance, husband, and baby. Just another quick blink of an eye, and that baby has turned into a very busy little boy, who came over to help us decorate our tree yesterday. Bleach Bottle Santa was safely out of his reach, this year hung on a nail in my kitchen. I checked right after they left, just to make sure SHE hadn’t taken Santa and dumped him in the recycle bin. Thankfully, he was right where he was supposed to be. Maybe, just maybe, she is finally starting to appreciate him. It could be that the house was once again a little too quiet, or maybe it was the blinking Christmas lights reflecting on his googly eyes, but I swear that as I looked up, Bleach Bottle Santa gave me a wink. He thinks so, too, and we all know that Santa knows everything. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

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