Hardy's preschool has a lovely tradition for the last day of "school" before Christmas break. They have Santa come to school and sit in the parlor. Everyone brings one dozen cookies. We go line up in the gym, eat cookies, and meet and have a photo taken with Santa. It's a nice way to squeeze in a trip to visit Santa without the hassle of going to the mall to meet Santa. My children have yet to realize that Santa comes to malls, and I hope they never find out.
We valiantly tried to minimize Santa in our early parenting days. Not totally disregard Santa, just not have the big guy be the main focus of Christmas. We were fairly successful in this effort until Hardy started preschool. Kids talk, and he knew the lowdown on Santa within weeks (it seemed) of starting preschool. Hardy has since decided there must be more than one Santa since he visits so many children; he's also decided Santa must share his cookies with Mrs. Claus since he gets so many.
The first year Hardy met Santa, he gamely sat on his lap, but refused to talk to Santa. His picture that year shows him leaning as far away from Santa as he can. That is my budding little misanthrope.
Last year, Hardy was three and was ready for Santa. He sat on his lap, and managed to talk to him too. He wouldn't say what he wanted, but Santa did finally worm out of him that he wanted a leaf blower. Hardy did receive the leaf blower, which I think he has played with 3 times. I think he may have been disappointed that it was not a real leaf blower like his dad has.
This year was the first year I was going to let Ellie experience Santa. She's almost 18 months now, and is enthralled by the spectacle of Christmas. She loves the lights and decorations, and she particularly likes grooving to Christmas music. Also, Hardy has been telling her all about Santa for weeks now (he loves to "teach" or "profess" as he sometimes says).
When Santa arrived, we could see him in the other room. The first reactions were hopeful. Hardy was thrilled, and Ellie laughed and smiled at Santa. She seemed enthralled until we crossed the threshold of the parlor.
Once we arrived in Santa's lair, Ellie decided that Santa was no friend of hers. So like any good mom, I plopped her down on his lap, beside Hardy. Ellie was not happy, and made her displeasure known. I have great pics of her screaming on Santa's lap. I feel as if we have endured a rite of passage - the obligatory photo with Santa, complete with crying child. What else says Christmas cheer than a photo of your kid, crying, mad at the world, and wondering who the heck this big guy is and why is Mommy letting him hold her?
Luckily, the cookies made Ellie decide to forgive me, and she left Hardy's preschool full of good cheer once more. In addition to the cookies, the kids had the opportunity to run and screech like banshees in the gym after they had finished eating. I contemplated pretending they weren't my children as I visited with other parents, but I knew that would never work. People had seen me with the kids, there was no way I could pretend they belonged to someone else.
Between terrorizing my youngest today with Santa and the screaming banshee impression they indulged in, I am feeling like a finalist in the "Best Mommy" contest. Hopefully Santa didn't see this and put me on the naughty list.
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