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It's Jack's third Christmas, but in a way, it's like it's his first.

Two yules ago, he was only six months old, and as a result, he didn't have a clue as to what was going on. We dressed him up in red and posed him on a bed of tinsel for his holiday photo and he chewed on a sparkly snowflake decoration that was surely made in China with lead-based glues and paints. He looked adorable in his miniature dress shirt and tie and was the hit of all the family get-togethers, and he really did get his two front teeth for Christmas.

Last December, Jack was a year and a half, and Christmas seemed to blindside him. One day he was plodding along in his feeted pajamas and suddenly there was a tree in the living room, covered with lights. He was curious about the tree but was really good about looking with the eyes, and not with the hands. He had absolutely no idea what was going on, no concept of holidays or presents or the religious origins of the season, though he did know who Baby Jesus was, kind of.

My wife enjoyed taking Jack for early evening strolls around the neighbourhood, and he took a liking to a brightly lit yuletide display that included both Santa Claus and the Baby Jesus, around the corner on Coxwell. Mommy dutifully explained all of this to the boy, but since his language skills were still in development, Jack took to yelling out at the top of his lungs “Jesus! Cox! Jesus Cox!”

When the actual Christmas day arrived, he was totally bewildered. It was all new and puzzling. He didn't know what presents were, or the significance of the wrapping paper, or why all of the family was over so early in the morning, but he did love the Sesame Street Ernie doll that was sitting out waiting for him under the tree.

Santa really gets around. (photo courtesy of Stephen Recker)

Since then, we've been trying to fill him in on key components of the holiday in general, although we probably should have kept it a little lower-key. I guess I'm just really excited for Jack this year. This big thing is that he now knows who Santa is. Previously, he's only known Santa as an abstract concept and as a window decoration that's been hanging up next to Ganesha and the other devas and devis in the front window of a store that we pass every day in Little India. He also knows all about the Christmas tree but he's been having a very hard time heeding our warnings not to touch it. I can't tell you how many times I've poked my head into the living room to see him with his arm buried shoulder-deep in that tree, his fingers wrapped around an ornament.

This year Jack has become very cognizant about getting toys and presents and that's got him pretty wired up. He's very excited about Santa bringing him some cars and trucks and is trying to figure out this whole naughty and nice business. I have to admit I had been avoiding adding that psychological torture angle too soon. I've always felt that it was a little mean to hold Christmas over a kid's head like a threat, but one day last week, when he was acting up and being a generally typical toddler, it slipped right off my tongue. I instantly regretted it. He furrowed his brow and I could see that he was processing this new complication to Christmas, and ever since, he's been actively testing every naughtiness threshold. In his mind, he can do almost anything as long as when he's caught he blurts out something like “Santa doesn't like Jack to play with the microwave! Playing with the microwave is naughty!”

The other big aspect of Christmas that we haven't really discussed with Jack is the whole religious origin of the Baby Jesus. Both my wife and I are agnostic on the best of days and atheist the rest, so what do we tell the curious boy about Immaculate Conception and the Son of God and all the domga that follows? I think that we're okay completely ignoring the issue this year, but I think next Christmas might bring some big questions. That gives us a year to work on our official party position.

I have an ominous feeling that next year will be the true test of Christmas. This year will almost be like tossing chum into the ocean. Jack the shark will get his first real taste of the gifts and cookies and the gifts and the candy canes and the gifts, and next year he'll be a frenzied predator. If he's anything like his father, he'll be marking up the Christmas Wish Book in October. After that, there'll be the bitter and disappointed years to come, where he won't get that extravagant super expensive toy and he'll be sullen and resentful and scream '“Dad I hate you!” as he kicks over the tree. Hopefully he'll be a teenager by that time and we'll be used to this kind of behaviour and it won't ruin Christmas for the rest of us.