Nobody wants to see a PDA. Granted, this secret Santa makeout sesh likely wasn’t intended to be public, but guess what. That one kid saw it and now we all have to hear about it in graphic detail every year. Now we all have to consider Santa Claus as a sexual being. Thanks a lot, Mommy.
3. Mommy could do better.
No offense, I’m sure Santa’s a great guy. And love knows no age, but Santa is getting up toward 2000 years old. If Mommy takes a long look at herself and discovers that what she really wants is an old man who wears head to toe red velvet, then, honestly, good for her. But this seems more like a cry for help.
4. Mommy is married.
The song indicates that there’s a daddy in the picture and that he would be unhappy with this little Christmas transgression. Maybe it’s an open marriage. Maybe Daddy’s a jerk. But if Daddy’s a loving husband with the expectation of a monogamous marriage, then this seems kind of uncool, Mommy.
5. Santa is a married man.
Santa’s got his own lady. Maybe the Clauses like to swing. We don’t know. They’re allegedly immortal so being with the same person indefinitely has got to get boring. But if that’s not the case, being complicit in helping Santa betray a nice woman who wears a bonnet (a bonnet for God’s sake) seems like not the best idea.
6. Santa is magic.
Kissing someone or some…thing that’s magic seems like it could have any number of terrifying consequences. Maybe you yourself become immortal. Maybe you yourself have to take on the duties of Santa, Tim Allen style. Who’s to say? Magic kissing is uncharted territory. Science can’t help you now.
10. The possibility of some sick Santa-themed role playing game.
A lot of you may be saying “Wait! The ‘Santa’ in the song was Daddy all along.” Was it? WAS IT? It was left intentionally ambiguous and we must draw our own conclusions based on whether or not we think Santa is real.
But let’s say it was Daddy wearing a Santa costume. Is that how Mommy and Daddy get their, to use the world’s most appropriate term, jollies? If dressing up like a velvety, old, snowy-white-bearded man is what you’re into, FINE. But the rest of us do not want to hear about this sick twisted fantasy in song form. Please.