Santa Claus

Awww 'tis the season where you pay money to place your terrified child on the lap of a big bearded man in a red suit and snap pictures of the entire process.  Gotta love Christmas time.

Last year's visit to Santa did not go so well for Ryan and up until the moment she was dumped on his lap, I had high hopes of it being a successful Santa trip this year.  I gave her pep talks about Santa all week and how he is a nice man who brings you presents on Christmas and when we saw a big stuffed Santa at CVS the other day, she went right up and hugged it exclaiming "Santa!!!"  In line at the mall, she was fine.  She wanted to watch the other kids seeing Santa and seemed to be okay with the prospect of meeting him.  We were there with our other little friend Avery and the two of them were so adorable in their Christmasy best.

However, the pictures with Santa tell a completely different story.  One of terror.  They look extremely similar to last years other than the fact that Rory was present  (and could have cared less) and Ryan has a little more hair.   I'm such a mean mom.  At least one of my children wasn't crying.

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At least her prize at the end was that she got to walk the mall hand in hand with her BFF.  After that, all was right with the world.  A girl after my own heart.

I said it last year and I'll say it again.  Maybe next year?  Then again, if I'm lucky enough to have Ryan decide she likes Santa, undoubtedly Rory will be screaming in the picture.  We could have a few years ahead of us before we get a Santa shot with no crying kids.

Bad Santa

Ryan had the absolute pleasure of meeting "mall Santa" yesterday.  It was an impromptu visit with Santa.  We had planned to go this weekend with Josh, but I was at the mall with some girlfriends yesterday and one of them was taking her daughter to see Santa, Ryan was dressed in somewhat Christmasy attire, we were waiting in line with them anyway, and Josh said go for it.  Soooo we did.

The result:

I felt pretty bad for poor Santa.  The second I put her on his lap, she completely lost it.  I let it go on for oh....7 seconds or so before I questioned whether she was going to do her holding breath/passing out routine (which hasn't happened again since early October) and decided that Ryan passing out on Santa was definitely NOT the memory I wanted to create for the day.  No need to make headlines on the 5 o'clock news, "Child Sees Santa and Passes Out From Fear," so I quickly saved her.   I'm convinced seeing Santa Claus is a form of toddler torture because I assure you she was not the only one screaming in the 15 or so minutes we were there.  Mean Mommies of the world unite!

I once said in a post that I'd never want to be a pediatric dentist, well you can add being Santa to that list as well.  I mean besides the obvious having to be a man, be fat, and have facial hair part, he has to deal with screaming, snotty nose kids all day.  Poor old man.  He really was a sweet Santa but Ryan couldn't get past the big white beard and red coat I guess.  Maybe next year?  When she's 2 and a half?  Hmmm maybe not.