Mr.Q wanted to take babyQ to see Santa this year.
I was waffling. She won’t care – she’s only six months old. And what if he scares the crap out of her? I mean, really, this guy has to be up there with clowns when it comes to bizarre things we subject our children to: now, honey, don’t talk to strangers and for god’s sake, don’t sit on their lap!
Seriously, people. I remember Santa being at the mall in SmallNorthernTown one year when I was little, and I don’t remember actually going to see him. I survived.
This does, of course, bring up the whole What Are We Going to Tell Her About Santa discussion that, thankfully, isn’t really applicable for a while yet. At the moment, we’re planning to call Santa a Christmas mascot – like for a football team.
Yes, I’m writing this in the blog so that when reality kicks in, I will have documentation of my folly.
In the mean time, though, we filled her vision yesterday with a red velour suit, all in the name of a fuzzy photo op. Only because the line was short.
Apparently the comments are acting up again. Yay beta blogger. Try posting as “Other” or “Anonymous” – hopefully this is short lived glitch.