Liars

Based on a child crying to her parents at the Budapest Christmas market 

Year after year I get told the same story. When I question it, mama repeats the same line over and over: “If angels don’t, who does?” How can she believe that? Don’t adults use any logic anymore? I hope I never become an adult. Clearly they aren’t very bright. 

Zsofi in class said it can’t possibly be true either. And she has three older brothers who know a lot. And who are good at soccer. Not like Mama. When Zsofi fell ill and couldn’t come over to play one afternoon, Mama came out to play with me. I felt bad for her. She was totally out of her league. A novice skater contending against the almighty    Every time she had the ball and was running, I caught up easily. She always exclaimed, “Got me again, you’re so fast.” Poor mama. I don’t know why adults are so slow. Thank god I’m never becoming one.

During writing class today, I told Zsofi I agreed with her. There had to be another story. Her parents still believed it, mine still did. We even asked our teacher (our teacher who is supposed to teach us things!) and she also believes that angels are to thank. I’m six. How can someone who has lived on this planet for so many more years than I have believe this lie?

Angels can’t possibly be strong enough to bring a Christmas tree to every house in the world during Christmas. Not unless we have millions of angels in the North Pole. And we would have seen them or heard them by now if there were so many living there. Especially if they are loudly chopping down millions of trees. And how can we think that they have time on Christmas eve to not only bring the trees to us but then also decorate them? When I do crafts for an hour, I’m already pretty whipped. No way can they keep up this work for longer than I can.

Someone is lying to the whole world. And this year, I’m finally going to figure it out.

Mama is useless for this expedition. So is Papa who just agrees with whatever Mama says. Teachers are out of the question as well. And so are all other adults. I have no hope in them. I wanted to share my suspicions with my younger brother Maté. He started crying and that was the end of the discussion. I think I have to rely on my own detective skills for this one. I could go to the North Pole. If there is not a city the size up Budapest up there inhabited by angels and reindeers, I’ll know. Mama probably wouldn’t let me go alone and I just know that if she comes with me, we’ll have no hope of discovering the truth. She’s too gullible. And bad with directions. We’d surely get lost, the way we did on our way to the Balaton last summer.

No, I’ve got to do this alone. A solo expedition to uncover what for probably millions of years people have kept under wraps. I could try to stay up on Holy Night and wait for the angels to come into the house. If it weren’t for Mama’s silly rule that we won’t get any ice cream if we don’t go to bed. She says angels need their privacy to work. How silly. No one gives me any privacy when I’m working on my LEGO house. Maté shouts in my ear for fun, Mama pesters me to clean up before dinner, Barna wants me to pet him. What a shame that they cannot comprehend my architectural genius.

It’d be unfair to punish me with no ice cream for risking my life for a major expedition that could solve one of humanity’s biggest mysteries. Explaining this to Mama in a reasonable and logical manner is, of course, not an option. Adults just don’t get it.

I think that only leaves me with one option. It’s extreme and could result in catastrophic consequences but I don’t see any other way. I have to set a trap and catch the person behind the Christmas-tree-gifting debacle. Since I don’t know how big angels are or how they even get into the house, I’ll have to set up multiple. traps around the house. This means working day and night around the clock for the next seven days.

I will be the first to admit the immense risks. If they’re an angel, I’m screwed for all future Christmases. They’ll probably never come back to our house. That means no trees forever. Angels are likely also well-connected with Mikulás. That means I can forget about Christmas trees or any gifts for the rest of eternity.  

But if they aren’t an angel, I will go down in history as the girl who uncovered the uncoverable. The girl who risked everything to set our textbooks straight. The girl who accepted the challenge.