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Where do you think you're going? Nobody's leaving. Nobody's walking out on this fun, old-fashioned family Christmas. No, no. We're all in this together. This is a full-blown, four-alarm holiday emergency here. We're gonna press on, and we're gonna have the hap, hap, happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny f*&%ng Kaye.--Clark Griswold
Lesson learned. Again. Santa is still scary, and only worthy of pictures with sullen, morose, trance-like expression interspersed between fearful wails and parental clinging. Next year, I think we'll just ride the train.
Trains don't have beards or freakishly white hair. Perhaps Santa has freakishly strong hearing aids as well because it wasn't until we got to the train that she directed a whisper at him: pink play dough, Santa. Pink play dough!
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If it makes you feel any better, in our pic, it's obvious that Santa is clutching Mini to keep him from jumping out of his lap and making a break for me. He (Mini) has that half-smile of someone who is trying to politely remove themself from a conversation with a crazy person right before you break into a hysterical run.
ReplyDeleteFingers crossed for next year (or that we'll get at least one picture with santa at some point in the future before he gets too old to sit in santa's lap at all ... sigh).
Well, their dresses are cute.
ReplyDeleteWe skipped the Santa this year (and last year) after also discovering that the train is WAYY better. But they do LOOK adorable!
ReplyDeleteWe still haven't braved it, and I think we aren't going to this year. The fear on her face...
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