The Man with the Bag

Christmas is coming and that means going to see Santa...  My dad took off work to take the kids on Friday.  (I think you could've picked both Mom's and my jaws up off the floor when he told us.  My dad didn't do that, but apparently, AC and Rory's PawPaw does.)  


I, personally, could never again darken the door of Bass Pro Shop and live a happy and fulfilled life...except on a Friday morning before Christmas.  It was friggin' awesome!  The line for Santa had THREE families in it...including us.  The girls were dressed in their Christmas costumes (a Santa dress for AC and an elf costume for Rory) and no one cried, screamed, picked their nose, threw up, nothing.  The picture turned out great on the first try!  I was a little concerned with Rory though, right before it was our turn, she let loose a man-sized butt rumbler that singed my nose hairs.  I was a little afraid she'd fart on Santa, but if she did, he didn't mention it.


I think you're only supposed to get one photo per visit, but after taking Rory off Santa's lap, AC wouldn't stop posing for the camera so they just kept snapping pictures.  Both Santa and his helpers found this wildly entertaining and AC gave Santa a hearty chuckle when she told him she wants "a toaster and some money" for Christmas.  I suspect she has a little less faith in Santa's abilities than she does in her Daddy's, she asked him for "diamonds and a pink pony with wings...a real one."

Turned out pretty cute and Santa was great with the kids.

I, personally, did not grow up believing in an magnanimous obese man with a penchant for B&E.  We left cookies out and knew that they would always be chocolate chip because those were Dad's favorite.  It was fun to pretend to believe, but I don't feel as though I missed out on anything due to actual non belief.


Maybe I'm over-thinking things, but how can I expect my child to believe that I'm telling her the truth about God, whom she cannot see when, for years, I lied to her about Santa Claus whose knee she sat on annually?  Not that I want to strip the magic and wonder from her childhood, but I just don't see the good in perpetuating a lie.  People who did believe all remember the exact moment when they learned there is no Santa.  It's like asking a member of the older generation if they remember where they were when Elvis or JFK were killed.  It's a shock to the system and alters, however minutely, the axis upon which your own personal world spins.  Like I said, it may be over-analyzing things, but I just don't see the benefit, personally.


Other than that, nothing of note has happened as of late, unless I count walking into my grandma's bedroom at 11:30 p.m. last night only to find AC in her jammies and Cinderella dress-up dress curled up with my grandma in her chair engrossed in Real Stories of the ER or some such nonsense.  Her response when I tell her to go to bed?  Rambling on and on about the lady whose baby is coming, the other lady with a big scar that lost her cat, and so on.  Seriously?!?  


Until then,


AC 'n' Rory's Mom


**How old were you when you learned Santa doesn't exist?  How did it affect you? Do/will your kids believe?