It was a small room bursting at the seams with babies and toddlers at the Christmas party we went to yesterday. In amongst all the mayhem Santa came for a visit. I was not surprised when most of the toddlers had pouty faces dripping with tears as their parents tried to force them to sit on Santa's lap. Why do we do such things to kids? Santa is kind of a scary guy.
Poor Castle started crying as soon as the jolly old man strolled in with those bells. He didn't want to go near Santa when his name got called out. Those little hands grabbed on so tight they left nail marks on my arm. It's okay, Santa is just a guy in costume. I know this may be unconventional, but we don't do Santa at this house. I didn't get presents from Santa growing up. I was taught that Christmas is not about Santa or presents. I remember thinking, my parents are such weirdos. But eventually, year after year, a present does come, just not from Santa, but from Mom and Dad. So as long as I still get a present, my world was alright. (And it was A present, not plural, just one. Weirdos.)