Some things seem like a good idea, like getting bangs or wearing a sweater dress, but in actuality they are not. That's what Annabelle and I learned about our trip to see Santa today. You see, Annabelle loves Santa. We have a Norman Rockwell's Deck the Halls out from the library that has a picture of him on it and she loves it. "La-la book, La-la book," she says every night. Whenever she seems him in someone's yard she says "San-ta Claus" and gets really excited. Sometimes she gets it a little confused and thinks he is Jesus, which is understandable because they both love you and have beards.
So I thought it would be a good idea to put her in a little Christmas dress and take her to have her picture taken. Problem number one was the dress. I had the perfect little cutesy dress picked out that I got on sale a few weeks ago. So this morning, I asked, rhetorically, I might add, "what should we wear to see Santa?" Her response? "Penguin shirt." You see, when I bought the cutesy little dress, Annabelle found a red t-shit with a penguin on it, took it off the rack and went running around the store with it saying, "Penguin, cute, Penguin, cute." So I got it for her. That is what she wanted to wear to see Santa, and you know what? She was right. Santa can see through artifice and I think if she came in a cutesy little dress, he would have said something like "Annabelle, is that you?" She was keeping it real, and he appreciates that and so does her Mama, even if from time to time she wants to put her in frilly little dresses with bows in her hair.
So we head off to the galleria, get there, park, only to find Santa is on the other side of the mall from where he was last year. Problem number 2. Oh well, gives me an excuse to browse. So we get there and are the second in line. She is transfixed and there is a look of joy on her face that I can't describe. You see, Santa from afar is just, well, a ripe jolly old elf. Up close is another matter. We made our approach. He was a great Santa, a real beard and everything. He even had ruddy cheeks, from being so cold at the North pole, I guess. Although they might be from drinking too many Busch Lights--I mean, hot toddies, to keep warm. As I am making this observation, Annabelle starts to get cold feet. Problem number three. Santa, in his infinite wisdom sees this and says to his helper taking the picture, "make this one quick." Annabelle says "Hi" to him and then when he puts her in his lap, she starts to scream. I am torn between sympathy for my daughter sitting on a bearded, creepy old stranger's lap and trying really hard not to laugh. The picture was short and as we were paying, I heard the next customer blame her child's shyness on Annabelle, saying "it probably didn't help that the other kid was screaming at the top of her lungs." Ho Ho Ho to you lady.
You know what? Santa, the real Santa, knows that you are not supposed to sit on strange people's laps without protesing and he marked that in the nice column for Annabelle which is a good thing because we are close to C-day and every little thing counts.
So I thought it would be a good idea to put her in a little Christmas dress and take her to have her picture taken. Problem number one was the dress. I had the perfect little cutesy dress picked out that I got on sale a few weeks ago. So this morning, I asked, rhetorically, I might add, "what should we wear to see Santa?" Her response? "Penguin shirt." You see, when I bought the cutesy little dress, Annabelle found a red t-shit with a penguin on it, took it off the rack and went running around the store with it saying, "Penguin, cute, Penguin, cute." So I got it for her. That is what she wanted to wear to see Santa, and you know what? She was right. Santa can see through artifice and I think if she came in a cutesy little dress, he would have said something like "Annabelle, is that you?" She was keeping it real, and he appreciates that and so does her Mama, even if from time to time she wants to put her in frilly little dresses with bows in her hair.
So we head off to the galleria, get there, park, only to find Santa is on the other side of the mall from where he was last year. Problem number 2. Oh well, gives me an excuse to browse. So we get there and are the second in line. She is transfixed and there is a look of joy on her face that I can't describe. You see, Santa from afar is just, well, a ripe jolly old elf. Up close is another matter. We made our approach. He was a great Santa, a real beard and everything. He even had ruddy cheeks, from being so cold at the North pole, I guess. Although they might be from drinking too many Busch Lights--I mean, hot toddies, to keep warm. As I am making this observation, Annabelle starts to get cold feet. Problem number three. Santa, in his infinite wisdom sees this and says to his helper taking the picture, "make this one quick." Annabelle says "Hi" to him and then when he puts her in his lap, she starts to scream. I am torn between sympathy for my daughter sitting on a bearded, creepy old stranger's lap and trying really hard not to laugh. The picture was short and as we were paying, I heard the next customer blame her child's shyness on Annabelle, saying "it probably didn't help that the other kid was screaming at the top of her lungs." Ho Ho Ho to you lady.
You know what? Santa, the real Santa, knows that you are not supposed to sit on strange people's laps without protesing and he marked that in the nice column for Annabelle which is a good thing because we are close to C-day and every little thing counts.
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