a festivus mystic insight

A cafe in the afternoon.

At an adjoining table sits a mother and her little boy.

I am reading Rufus The Story Of A Fox which I love. My attention is not entirely on the book because I can hear every word from the adjoining table.

The little boy says seriously: "Why does Santa use dirty words all the time."

His mother says: "Santa never uses dirty words."

"Oh yes he does," insists the little boy.

"When does Santa use bad language?" wonders his mother.

"He keeps saying ho, ho, ho."

From behind Rufus The Story Of A Fox, I find myself issuing a few surreptitious ho's of my own.

The little boy's mother earnestly endeavours to explain.

"Oh but that's just Santa laughing. It's like ha, ha, ha, or hee, hee, hee."

"No it's not," says the little boy, "it's a bad word for a woman."

That kid has got Santa's number.