“Look all you want Ivan, but I’m not spending a dime. Christmas is made up,” my father said as we walked past the Manhattan Mall Toy Store on Christmas Eve. He swiftly increased his pace and raised his hand signaling me to catch up.

“But Papa we’re rich!” I exclaimed.

My father came to a sudden halt. “No, I’m rich. You don’t have a cent. It’s not even about the money, I’m trying to teach you something very important,” he lectured.

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” I asked angrily.

“Well kid, Christmas comes from a stupid societal idea that the 25th of December is important so I should spend my money buying worthless garbage to make you feel special, and I won’t be pressured by society.”

I folded my arms and held my breath as a manner of protest.

My father watched me turning slightly purple for a few minutes in silence until he shouted. “You can hold your breath until next year, you’re still not getting anything!” repeatedly.

An elderly woman carrying lots of shopping bags came towards me and gave me a box. “Merry Christmas sweety,” she said with a smile on her face, before turning to point her middle finger at my father and walking away.

Feeling light-headed, I took a few steps and plummeted onto the snow. My father picked me up and started walking.

“Good job kid, rest up so we can get you some more free stuff!” he said and we both laughed.

The lesson here is people are suckers at Christmas.