Making Art Again: December 22: The Big Santa Fail

We go to see the big man every year. I love it. I love how I can feel their excitement surging out of their bodies on the drive there, walking the red carpet to his chair and then pulling back a little when they realize seeing Santa involves sitting on a stranger's lap. I wait for that magical moment when they see him and their eyes sparkle with all the hopes of what meeting this man could mean...

Well none of that happened this year.
Some of it happened, I guess, but let me retell our Santa-tale for you. Obviously, we are kind of running out of time to see him. I mean, Thursday is a pretty big night for him. The kids had not asked to go see him, but of course I think that their childhood might fall to pieces if we miss sitting on Santa's lap one year.

I washed them and dressed them pretty, I even brushed their hair. We drove 45 minutes because a Santa that is say, 15 minutes away isn't good enough for my kids. Nothing but the over-commercialized best for my darlings.

Let me stop here and say that the reason I forgot my post yesterday was because I was wrapping presents into the wee hours of the morning. When I finally did go to sleep, I think I had to wake up for the day. To say that there was no coffee cup deep enough is an understatement, but I was determined to see Santa, not matter if I was kind of sleep walking all day.

When we walked in to the mecca of Santaland at 2 pm a cheery ~~snotty~~ little elf handed me a "Santa-Pass" that said come back at 6:30 pm. Four and a half hours wait to see Santa. Yep, you read that right, four and a half hours to see Santa.

So basically I shimmied the kids up to the edge of the red carpet and said "hey kids wave to Santa, from a distance, maybe just shout what you want" like "hey Santa, if you could just add a train, a robotic cat and every stuffed animal in the land to your list you'll have the Jones kids covered." I gave him a thumbs up and a wink as I was shouting and clicking my camera but I think he just gave me a dirty look. I could feel his sparkling eyes and his cheeks like cherries starring me down saying "hey lady, where's your Santa pass? Take a number and get in line with the rest of these crazy parents."

No worries Santa, my kids liked the train better.

So that was it, we missed Santa. While I might be crazy enough to drive 45 minutes to see him, I know better than to wait 4 1/2 hours in a crowded store when I'm running on no sleep and Starbucks.