I love the Christmas tree, I enjoy Christmas carols, I love the food (cooking it and eating it), spending time with loved ones and I adore giving presents and seeing how much the receiver loves what we have given them (or sometimes hates it - which isn’t the desired outcome but it sometimes happens with family). And then there is Santa..........
Now Santa is a bit of a strange guy. The original story is a lovely one; however what it has morphed into is bizarre. Yes he gives presents, yes he has a jolly tummy that wobbles like a bowl full of jelly and yes he gives gifts to children (well kind of, but I won't go into that just in case I have any junior burgers reading).
The thing that gets me about Santa is that year after year hundreds of parents line up at shopping centres to take their children all dressed up, to sit on this old, most times degenerate and almost always guaranteed to be cranky man in a cheap red suit and fake beard.
We teach (drill) our children time and time again about stranger danger and not to accept lollies off anyone we don't know, however in the case of Christmas that is all thrown out the window for one happy snap.
This year I joined the sheep and lined up to see old Saint Nick as Miss G was asking about "Santa, Santa, Santa", I assume she learnt it from daycare or thanks to The Wiggles and their Rockin' Santa or maybe from me being so into the season, I can’t be too sure.
The line was a thirty minute wait and for any of you who have a two year old you will understand that keeping a them occupied, dressed nicely, in the line and behaving semi normal is like wresting a bag filled will a crocodile, octopi and feral cats all together.
So we finally reach the front of the line and ol' Nick decided that he wants out to have a lunch break... He turns and catches my snarl and slowly takes his place back in the large oversized sleigh.
I walk Miss G in, the tension was so thick. G decided she doesn’t want a bar of it, she completely loses and climbs up my left side, clawing at my shoulder screaming out "No Santa, No Santa, No Santa" (yes it was an instant change, but once again those mothers to two year olds will completely understand). Santa looks at me as if he didn't have the time to deal with yet another screaming child and I look at the line of 60 or so parents laughing at my misfortune for having to wrangle Miss G. The fat guy in the red suit was seriously cranky at us for holding him up. What was possibly a 1 minute ordeal in front of an audience of almost a 100 or so people felt like at least an hour and it was in slow motion.
I didn't force Miss G to take the photo (unlike approximately 6 other parents before me), I walked away with my delirious little girl and in complete embarrassment, I could have cried too God knows why.
I had to take her away to calm her down, whilst she was screaming "No Santa" at the top of her lungs for at least 10 minutes. A lovely woman (insert extreme sarcasm here) decided she would give me some solid parenting advice said "Why don't you just take the poor love to see Santa". I didn't comment and I kept my cool however in my imagination I took her down.
I was exhausted, embarrassed and we will not be doing it again..... anytime soon or at least till she asks me too.
Can’t I just tell her that the dude that brings her presents is Daddy?
The other trick is to jump in the photo with her? So far every year the photo has been of Marley, Santa and one or both of us! The other trick is to go somewhere quiet at opening so there is no one else there so the anticipation doesn't get crazy :) good luck x
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