Hometownie Hero

Never change, ya filthy animals

Observer columnist Mike Cavaliere attempts to calculate the mile-high cost of just a few items on his child’s Christmas list (while huffing into a brown paper bag to keep from passing out).

  • By Mike Cavaliere
  • | 8:25 a.m. December 21, 2023
Little-known fact: Mike Cavaliere is allergic to real Christmas trees, which basically means he’s allergic to Christmas. Still, he insisted on taking this photo (“because it will be hilarious”). Almost immediately afterward, he fell violently ill with a catastrophic case of the sniffles — or “Ebenezer’s Revenge,” as he kept calling it. (Photo: Mike Cavaliere)
Little-known fact: Mike Cavaliere is allergic to real Christmas trees, which basically means he’s allergic to Christmas. Still, he insisted on taking this photo (“because it will be hilarious”). Almost immediately afterward, he fell violently ill with a catastrophic case of the sniffles — or “Ebenezer’s Revenge,” as he kept calling it. (Photo: Mike Cavaliere)
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They say it takes a village to raise a child but “they,” as a rule, are usually idiots.

Let's face it: “Their” track record is spotty at best. These are the same people who invented banana-flavored candy, remember. They talk on speakerphone in restaurants, read the daily horoscope and regularly use the word "lie-barry."

Mike Cavaliere

Now, I don't want to offend anyone here. I'm not saying it's impossible to be somebody who wears pajama pants in public and also offers sound life advice. I'm just saying that if you've ever seen a choreographed dance at a wedding and thought, "What a nice surprise!" well, I'll politely nod and smile, but I won't take a word of your guidance — or your back sass, for that matter, after I ask you to leave my home, please, and never, ever come back.

The simple truth is this: It doesn't take a village to raise a child. It takes money. Like, lots of money.

Don't believe me? Check out any kid's holiday wish list — which, in some circles, I'm told, are delivered alongside loan applications.

Charlotte's Christmas List

Here is a sampling of my 11-year-old stepdaughter's list — a mere sprinkling, mind you, of my favorite items. Feel free to laugh in utter disbelief at each request, as I did, when she first went public with this shameless showcase of audacity and entitlement.

Phone 

  • Cost: $500-$1,000
  • Note: This item is circled roughly 140 times in pen on the list, underscoring its importance. And that makes sense. Every preteen needs a cell phone. How else can they be expected to develop a healthy self-image without first figuring out which selfie angle yields the most hearts on Insta? Such knowledge can only be acquired through years of rigorous field testing, and we Cavalieres are nothing if not advocates of peer-reviewed scientific research.

AirPods

  • Cost: $250
  • Note: In the past year, Charlotte has broken or lost at least three sets of headphones — that I know of. But yeah, sure, let's splurge to make sure she’s flashing the same gear as Dua Lipa.

Apple Watch

  • Cost: $500
  • Note: Make no mistake: You cannot put a price on happiness … but if you really wanted to try, you’ll notice that this device comes with a calculator. Add up the three items cited so far, and your screen should read: “MORTGAGE FORECLOSURE IMMINENT.”

"Custom-built skateboard with my name on it"

  • Cost: Priceless 
  • Note: Charlotte already has a skateboard (mass produced and nameless though it may be). She once successfully stood on it for four seconds without falling, and we were all very proud. But this would also be a good time to clarify that, despite any rumors you may have heard, we did not, in fact, enroll this child to compete in the upcoming X Games. So, a custom-built board ain’t happening. Next!

Nintendo Switch

  • Cost: $300 
  • Note: This one I almost want to buy just so I can take it away whenever she’s being a twerp. Our exchange might go something like this: 


Me: “Charlotte, be a dear and fetch King Mikey (I make her call me King Mikey) a fresh wheel of feasting cheese, will you? And do make haste.” 

Her: “Ughhhhhhh….”

Me: “Switch be gone!”

Then I’ll clap twice from my royal throne (that’s what I make her call the couch), and Rebecca will know to rip the Nintendo from the wall and throw it like a frisbee into my noble resting chambers (bedroom), where I’ll proceed to play it for hours after Char goes to sleep.

And no — “they” won’t be invited.

Mike Cavaliere is the author of The Humorist: Adventures in Adulting & Horror Movies, available now.

 

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