Well, I did it. I went to see Santa. It was an experience, that's forsure. We briefly waited in line this afternoon...there wasn't much of a
crowd because all of the church go-ers were just starting to trickle in to the mall by the time we were in line. Mom and Dad, playing 'hookie' once more, came early to avoid the post-church crowds(sinners)so the line was practically nonexistent. There was one little girl and a two teenagers ahead of me. I could hear the first little girl crying while she was on Santa's lap...that should have been my cue right there to leave immediately. But no...Mom pushed my stroller up to the front, picked me up, and then plopped me down on that scary man's lap. I turned and took one good look at him and started crying. I don't like your beard, man, your outfit, or those round rosy cheeks of yours. I still want your presents and everything, but just put me down! And let me add that the loud red velvet get-up with white fur and poorly kept white beard isn't exactly flattering. Everyone knows that velvet isn't slimming and adds a couple [hundred] pounds! (I learned that after Mom made me wear my red and white outfit to my school Christmas program.)
So needless to say, it didn't make for the most precious photos for my baby album...don't get me wrong...I still looked incredibly adorable of course, but I've done better because I had a little bit of the 'deer caught in the headlights' look going on. I was sporting my snazzy new stripped sweater that my Gaga made me for Christmas and my blue hat that my Great Nana made me, so that helped the cuteness factor a little...
...hopefully next year will be a better experience IF I choose to visit the big guy again...
(pictures to be posted soon!)
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