Maxine, my 5-year-old, was home sick last week, dripping snot and hacking like a two-pack-a-day smoker in Boca. I drugged her up, plunked her down on the couch, wrapped her in a blanket, and put on Nick Jr. (Don’t judge.) As I sat with my laptop in the next room, I could hear an endless succession of ho-ho-hos and jingling bells. Dora’s ice-pick voice stabbed my brain: Swiper! Give that present back to Santa, por favor!
Every show on children’s television seemed to feature chirpy efforts to rescue Santa or induce some animated sourpuss to feel the spirit of Christmas. Before long Maxine was pouting, “Where is Hanukkah? Why is there no Hanukkah on these shows?”