song for mommy

Imagine our children, how fucked would they be? Mommy’s a psycho, daddy lives in a dream
—  The Neighbourhood
the only four possible interpretations of the song ‘i saw mommy kissing santa claus,’ each more terrible than the last

listen. i can’t possibly be the first person to fall down this awful rabbit hole. i can’t possibly be the first person on the internet to point this out. 

but i need someone else to keep me company in this terrible brain-room i have built because i now seem incapable of leaving no matter how hard i try, so grab your favorite seasonally appropriate slippers and follow me on this journey into the worst five minutes of your life.

because one of four things is happening with this song:

1. a child crept downstairs late on december 24 hoping for a glimpse of jolly ol’ st nick, dreaming of some ‘t’was the night before christmas’ whimsy or maybe even a ‘polar express’-level adventure, only to instead be confronted by the sight of santa macking on their mom. right there in the living room. 

also, did you know that, in the lyrics, after mommy kisses santa, she tickles him “underneath his beard so snowy white”? think about that for a moment. really let it sit with you. you won’t want to, but let it marinate a sec.

the child did not witness a quick, platonic european-style cheek kiss. there is something more happening here. i have given friends a friendly peck before but it was not followed by ticking–their chin? their sternum? man, each to their own. but my point is: we are not talking about a simple mistletoe smooch. we are talking about intimacy.

and look, i did not come here to slutshame anyone’s mom. i certainly did not come here to slutshame anyone’s mom for making out with santa–check the archives i have literally never expressed such an interest anywhere in the years of this blog and i DEFY YOU to prove otherwise

but damn, that is a loaded way to learn of your parent’s infidelity, and shit, when you go to your dad with this information (in the chorus the narrator repeatedly voices this intention), you are about to put yourself in the middle of a weird, messy custody battle.

2. “but smile” you say, “you do realize that this song is meant to be tongue-in-cheek, with the clear implication the child is a classic unreliable narrator, too naive to realize ‘santa claus’ is just Dad in disguise, and furthermore that this irony is heavily telegraphed by the repeated assertion ‘what a laugh it would have been / if Daddy had only seen,’ a line that could never have made it into an ostensibly light-hearted christmas song if not for the certainty that it is all in fact a hilarious misunderstanding? it’s the kid’s dad! you are thinking about this way too much!’

ok first of all, obviously.

second of all, counterpoint: how do you mistake your dad for santa? he’s your dad. you know what he looks like. no matter the extenuating circumstances, if you are creeping around in your own house late at night and you see a man who looks like your dad kissing your mom, how would your first thought be anything other than ‘oh probably that is my dad’

“um smile,” you interject, probably a little distressed by the intensity in my voice and the general lack of blinking, “earlier in this very post you quote a line that tells us, the listener, precisely what enables this shakespearean case of mistaken identity: the dad is wearing a fake beard ‘so snowy white’. ipso facto, the dad is dressed like santa. bam. case closed, encyclopedia brown.”

but no. nonononono. wait. unpack that. why is the speaker’s dad in full santa garb? 


we already know the dad had no intention of being seen by any of his children. how do we know this? well, a) it’s the middle of the night and b) presumably if the dad intended for his offspring to take in the santa act, he wouldn’t be subjecting his child to this psycho-sexual minefield.

“ok now,” you say, “maybe one or both of the parents has a fetish, it is not your place to judge.”

well, yeah. but maybe when you have kids, the middle of the living room is not the place for your kris kringle kink. consenting adults should of course chase their bliss, but the child who takes in this scene is gonna come out of this with some very specific emotional baggage, i’m just saying.

3. “okay smartass,” you persevere, maybe now a little tired by my inability to let this go. (sorry.) “consider this: maybe within the fiction of the song, santa is real. you don’t know what type of relationship the speaker’s parents have with each other. you definitely don’t know what type of relationship santa has with mrs. claus. polyamory is a thing. open marriages are a thing. this could all be a completely above-the-board situation. the child will, as we have already established, approach their dad, at which point they will have a frank and informative dialogue about monogamy alternatives. merry christmas.”

well listen, i hate to rain on your parade, friend, but there is a crucial flaw in this line of reasoning: christmas eve is a workday for santa. santa is on the clock. santa has the impossibly difficult, high-stakes task of delivering presents to all the good children celebrating the holiday. this is literally the one night of the year where he needs to knuckle down and concentrate on his job.

and instead he is out there, still in full uniform, in the middle of his most important workday all year, getting his beard tickled?

fucking unprofessional. kids are gonna not get their gifts because of this bullshit.


great. now the narrator has to go the whole rest of their life wondering what the fuck in their subconscious conjured these images on christmas goddamn eve. not toys, not candy, not playing in the snow, or any other source of festive child-friendly cheer. no, this little kid nestled up snug in their bed on the night before christmas and dreamed not of sugarplums but of the hypothetical chemistry between santa and their mom.

there is no win scenario in this story. everywhere you turn it is an absolute fucking nightmare.

…and people are angry about plain red fucking starbucks cups. goddamn.

anyway. happy holidays, everyone.

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus - Damian Wayne x Batmom

Prompt: You know the song I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus? Pretty much what the title says with Damian being shocked to see Batmom kissing “Santa Bruce Wayne Claus”.

“Damian, sweetie, what are you doing?” You asked looking suspiciously as you observed Damian setting up a dangerous looking bear trap in the fireplace. As a parent you figured you should at least a little bit worried, as Batmom though little surprised you anymore.

“I’m protecting us from unwanted intruders.” He answered simply, not bothering to stop setting the trap or at the very least act like he should be hiding what he was trying to do.

“Protect us from who?” You asked.

“The supposed magic fat man who breaks into homes through the chimney. He won’t be getting into this home.” Damian said with fierce determination. You racked your mind on how to possibly rein in this situation.

“You mean Santa Claus?” You asked.

“Yes. He will pay dearly for breaking and entering into our home.” He said threateningly.

“Sweetie, Santa leaves presents. He doesn’t have any ill intentions when he comes into houses.”

“It’s about the principle mother! He has no right!” Damian said righteously. And to think you thought Damian didn’t believe in Santa Claus …

When night fell and all the boys went to bed you went down to the kitchen to grab a glass of water when you ran into Santa Claus himself. You smiled fondly at Bruce while he set presents under the tree in a bright red suit.

“I’d watch where you step if I were you. Damian took … precautions.” You cautioned him, leaning against the doorframe as you slowly sipped your water.

“Believe me, I know. I had to disable a trip wire connected to the trigger of a crossbow.” Bruce chuckled setting the bag of presents down and walking over to wrap his arms around your waist.

“You should have at least triggered a few of them. An arrow imbedding in the wall or some spilled blood will go a long way to keep Damian’s belief alive.” You joked poking him in the side.

“Duly noted.” He grumbled. You smiled warmly at him before being overcome by a deep yawn.

“Come to bed soon? Knowing Dick, it’ll be an early morning.”

“Go ahead and go to bed. I’ll only be a few more minutes.” Bruce encouraged gently.

“Alright.” You agreed reaching up to press a kiss onto Bruce’s cheek. “Merry Christmas, Santa.” You said playfully. Bruce smirked and tilted his head slightly so that your lips met. You giggled lightly at the feeling of his fake beard scratching your face.

“Intruder!” Damian’s voice shouted out furiously from the stair case. “Get your hands off my mother!” He snarled, charging at ‘Santa’ with his sword raised. Bruce sent you a quick wink before throwing down a smoke bomb and disappearing to goodness knows where.

“Coward!” Damian shouted into the emptiness of the room, hoping that the intruder would show his face and battle him. When it was clear that wouldn’t happen Damian rushed over to your side.

“Did he hurt you? I swear I will hunt him down if he hurt you!” Damian promised. You gently laughed and hugged him to you, your fierce over-protective son.

“I’m fine, sweetie. Let’s go back to bed.” You said, already leading him towards his room. “No buts.” You said firmly when he looked like he wanted to argue. He let you lead him back to his room but stopped you in front of you and Bruce’s door.

“I’m staying with you tonight, Mother. I won’t let him hurt you.” He insisted. You smiled fondly at him and gently ran your fingers through his hair. From the look in his eyes he wasn’t about to take no for an answer.

“My hero.” You smiled genuinely and opened the door to your room. Luckily Bruce lay “sleeping” in the bed, appearing to never have left. Oh you’re good …

Smiling to yourself you crawled into bed with Damian not far behind you, falling asleep between you and Bruce. It would seem that Damian scared the intruder Santa off because he quickly fell asleep and didn’t wake up until early the next morning when Dick bounded in during his rounds to wake everyone up.  

Underneath the Mistletoe

Summary: Sam and the Reader’s son creeps out of bed on Christmas eve and catches Santa and his mom under the mistletoe

Pairings/Characters: Sam Winchester x Reader, OMC (J.D. Winchester, Sam and Reader’s son), Dean Winchester

Word Count: 1693

Warnings: Implied smut, cursing, fluff

A/N: I heard the song “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” and got this idea and it just wouldn’t leave me alone to work on the challenges that I have due and the requests I’m working on.  So, here you go!  An unsolicited, unplanned Christmas fic!  Once again, thanks is due to the Sam to my Dean for serving as the best beta a girl could ask for.

Underneath the Mistletoe - 

There was a shuffling sound coming from downstairs and J.D. sat up quickly and reached under his pillow.  He pulled out the water gun that his dad had helped him fill with holy water and that his mom didn’t know he had hiding there and crept out of his room.  J.D. snuck half way down the stairs before he stopped, his eyes wide and mouth gaping open.  “Santa!” he whispered as quietly as he could.

Keep reading


I remember when I was just a boy

You took my puppy and left me all alone

You said you loved me, but that was just a lie

How could a mommy abandon her own sons?

One thing I’d like to know is if you are coming back

Because I just can’t stand to see one more sunset

Well, nyan nyan no more sunsets thank you nye nye mommy

Meow meow no more sunsets no more sunsets

Blech I miss you mommy I’m sorry and um hi pepep

One more sunset *barf*

for years it did not occur to me that in the song “i saw mommy kissing santa claus” it was just the kid’s dad dressed as santa i seriously thought that this woman was cheating on her husband with santa. so i’m just like “ok santa claus is a homewrecker got it”


Mommy - Wonderwall