Growing up on fantasy novels really ruins you for a lot of things. Animals don’t talk. Unicorns don’t actually exist. You Hogwarts letter isn’t coming, you’re almost 30, seriously, stop waiting for it. Close the window, bugs are getting in.
Oh, and Santa isn’t going to come bring you weapons.
Of all the lies fantasy books ever told me, that’s the biggest one. When the Pevensie children run into Santa just wandering around the woods in Narnia, he pulls over, says hello, reaches into his bag and just starts distributing heavy weaponry to children. Peter and Edmund get swords, Susan gets a bow. Even Lucy, who is like 7, gets a freaking dagger.
Real world Santa seemed far more interested in handing out toys and clothing and candy than sharpened blades and projectiles and frankly, it’s just insulting. Sure, the Pevensies were fated to become the greatest rulers of the fictional kingdom of Narnia and are, you know, fictional, but I did really well in middle school English. I think I deserved a sword or two.
Screw it, someone get me a wardrobe. I’m going to Narnia.