Bah, Humbug

Kids I've met for the lovely first time started their daily rounds today as per schedule chirping 'namamasko po!' in that high-pitched lilt particular to people below seven. Huff. I'm not amused.

I've never seen them before in my life and I know the feeling's mutual. So why do they come to my house asking for cold hard cash? Munniemunniemunnie? Is it because it's Christmas? Oh. Riiiiiight. Christmas is Legalized Extortion Season.

I am very distressed. I'm hiding out in my own home like some fugitive grinch. I know I'm not exactly the personification of the Ghost of Christmas Present (depicted by Dicken's as a jolly, robust woman with mistletoe in her hair), but I am also not exactly Scrooge. These kids...it's pure blackmail. How can you not give them anything? Even munnie? They chirp to you in their crisp new Sexbomb outfits and pants and polos. It's either you heart melts with aw or you hide besides the fridge pretending they don't exist.

I opted for the latter. I'm paying for my sins, thank you very much, what with extra four pounds mocking me from down the bathroom scale. Yeah.

So now tell me something: is this kid-begging-er-asking-for-money-from-strangers phenomenon exclusive only to Cavite?