Skip to main content

Santa Claus came to town

Last night I took the girls to the Chamber of Commerce to see Santa Claus. (Santa had originally planned to come to the park gazebo, but it hasn't hit 50 degrees here since December 1, so the town decided that the Chamber office would be more comfortable.) He was a very nice Santa and spent a long time with each child; which was nice for the child of the moment but not so nice for those standing in line. However, we were the the third family to show up so we didn't really have to wait that long.

He and Mrs. Claus, who was sitting beside him in a gingham bonnet, were both a bit judgey when it came to wish lists, though. The girl ahead of us asked for a cell phone. "A cell phone? How old are you?" Santa asked. The girl said she was 10. "I'll have to think hard about that one," Santa said. Mrs. Claus interjected: "Honey, you don't need a cell phone until you start to drive." The girl looked a bit upset. Mrs. Claus leaned over and said to her mom in a loud whisper: "She really doesn't need a cell phone, you know!"

(Let me say that in theory I agree with the Clauses about the cell phone business, but you're supposed to be able to ask Santa for anything! That's the point of Santa!)

So when Mallory asked Santa for an ipod, he frowned a little bit. "I'd also like a webkinz," she said hastily. "Now that I can do!" he said.



Santa had no reservations about Phoebe's wishes: Girl legos and Polly Pockets. Mrs. Claus told me that she loved Phoebe's name.



I think both my good little girls will be satisfied on Christmas morning.

Comments

aimee said…
He was a little judgy. I hope he softens a bit before Christmas morning for Mallory's sake. ;)

Popular posts from this blog

Sleep tight

For the past week, and for the first time in their lives, my children have been falling asleep without me in the room with them.

My children are seven-and-a-half and almost four, so I wouldn’t take it amiss if you were to say that this has been a long time coming.

Here’s the thing. Chris snores, which is not his fault, and I am a super-sensitive princess type who cannot handle any kind of noise whilst I try to sleep. So when we moved into our current house I started sleeping in the guest room. Around that time, Mallory, who was about seven months old, suddenly decided to stop sleeping through the night, or to let me return her to her crib after a period of rocking or nursing, so the easiest thing to do – since I had to be up early to get to work – was to just bring her in the guest bed with me. And eventually she stopped sleeping in her crib altogether, and subsequently also rejected the toddler bed we bought as a replacement, so it was the guest bed (the geen bed, she called it, becaus…

Rocko Bama for President!

I was explaining to Mallory the other night that we'll be electing a new president soon, and then told her who my particular favorite was. She was intrigued by his name and kept asking me to pronounce it; then she asked if the other people who wanted to be president were "bad guys." I said, "Yes! They're evil, evil I tell you!" No, I actually said, "No, they're not bad guys, and one is actually a woman, they just have ideas that I disagree with."

Last night the phone rang and Mallory ran to answer it. She listened for a minute and then her eyes got really wide. "Mommy, you gotta hear this!" she said, bringing me the receiver. I listened; it was a robo-call from my candidate, in his own voice, encouraging me to vote in our upcoming primary. "Do you know who that was?" I asked Mallory.

"It was Rocko Bama!" she said excitedly.

Close enough.



And, just to drive home the point that my daughter is no master of elocution, la…

Somebody stop me

Because I have all the time in the world and unlimited patience, I want to make this:


The flowery one on top, not the stripy one on the bottom. Even though I've never crocheted anything larger than a scarf, and I only made the scarf this weekend, and before that I'd never crocheted anything larger than a cell phone case. Even though this afghan is made of two-hundred and twelve separate blocks that would have to be stitched together, and my least favorite thing about crocheting is stitching pieces together. Even though I don't need another blanket in my house, I have plenty. Even though I'm afraid I'm going to become a crazy crochet lady who keeps making things that nobody needs and foisting them on people. Here, have a scarf! Have an afghan! Have some booties! People will tire of me.

If I'm going to make an afghan, having never made one before, it would be smart to start with something easier:


or at least with something smaller:


But what if I hate the whole pr…