When did Santa Claus become a pushover? Isn’t he supposed to be keeping track of who’s naughty and nice, and distributing gifts accordingly? That was the myth anyway.

Since about October, we’ve been trying to use the threat of a Christmas without toys to effect better behavioral patterns in our children. They’ve brushed off all such suggestion with nary a concern. Which leads me to believe that Santa has fallen in with that despicable “everybody gets a trophy” crowd.

Today, Santa Claus is a non-judgmental chump who ascribes to a skewed form of egalitarianism. He would never dare to label someone a brat, they’re simply differently-demeanored, and denying them a present would set them down the path towards a lifetime of substance abuse and underachievement.

It occurs to me however, since Santa is a myth that is furthered by the likes of me, that I’m the chump. I’m the one who created an entitlement society in our household and conditioned my kids to believe that Santa will provide a bountiful haul on the holidays, come hell or high water.

I never meant it to be that way.

On days when cabin fever turns my normally decently-behaved children into a band of quarrelling and inobedient deviants, I sometimes imagine what it would be like if they awoke on Christmas morning to find no gifts beneath the tree. "See," I would tell them, "this is what happens when you fight over the computer. You pissed Santa off, happy now?"

After their initial anger and self-pity gave way to the stark realization that they brought it all upon themselves, I’d agree to call Santa’s cell phone to see if I could catch him before he made it back to the North Pole. And then, if by magic, the gifts would appear in the closet under the basement steps and I would distribute them to my repentant children.

Of course I would never do this. It’s just too sadistic.

If on Christmas morning they discovered that Santa hadn’t visited, they would be crushed. Their childhood innocence and belief in miracles would be gone forever. And then their sad little faces would turn red with contempt and they’d start fighting over whose fault it was. I just couldn’t do that to myself.