The Santa Experience

That pretty much says it all, doesn’t it? Every year, it’s an unwritten rule that you have to take your kids to see Santa. Eli has been asking before Thanksgiving, and since we are running out of time, we figured we had better just do it. We waited until Sunday night because we figured it would be less busy. It actually wasn’t too bad. I think there were about ten families in front of us as opposed to about 50 families in front of us last year. We were off to a good start. I should have known better.

When you get there, they have a maze of roped-off poles surrounding Santa. It’s like the freaking lines at DisneyWorld. You have to zigzag your way through to get to Santa. Since they weren’t horribly busy, we zigzagged all the way toward the front of the maze and began trying to decide which ridiculously priced photo package we were going to buy this year. That was when this bitchy little elf woman came over and said, “Excuse me, ma’am (grrrrrr). You need to move your stroller off to the side so we can condense the line.”

Condense the line?!! I looked around. There was no one behind me!! Before I said “Are you freaking kidding me?” Elf woman tromped off back to her little photo station.

When we go to the mall, we are blessed with very little “good” Georgia time. She doesn’t like being strapped into the stroller, but it is really the only way to attempt to contain her. Now, we had to take her out of the stroller and I had to wind my way back through the maze of ropes and chains to park it off to the side. So, now the line that was somewhat short seemed to move much more slowly when we tried to keep control of an 18-month-old who desperately wanted to run free.

Eric tried to hold her. Needless to say, screaming and crying ensued. By the time it was our turn, things were snowballing downhill at a rapid pace. It took every ounce of willpower I had not to get downright bitchy with the elf people. I figured karma might come back to bite me in the ass if I made an elf cry. So, I kept my mouth shut. They lucked out. The smarmy little bastards.

We sat both kids on Santa’s lap, and tried to get them to look somewhere near the camera. Georgia took one look at Santa and burst into tears. She sat there the whole time crying with her arms outstretched to me or Eric. Eli didn’t want to look at the camera because he was way too interested in telling Santa that he wants bath crayons, Play-Doh and a juicer for Christmas. (Don’t even ask.)

We finally went with the photo pictured above because Eli actually has a decent smile on his face, and it’s the only one of Georgia that didn’t look like she was desperately trying to escape. A winner!

Eli finished talking to Santa, and we went over to pay. They had a big sign up that said they were out of $1 bills, quarters, and dimes. Ooookaaaay. Why didn’t they just put up a sign that said they couldn’t make change?

To top it all off, Santa gives out candy canes every year. Every freaking year since we have had Eli, he has gotten a candy cane. Today, when Eli was being mean to his sister, we used that as a threat. “You better be good, or Santa won’t give you a candy cane.”

Well, guess what? Santa wasn’t giving out any f***ing candy canes this year. He was giving out little books. Eli was pissed. He wanted his candy cane, and we had to hear about it all the way home. Personally, I think Santa and the wicked little elves have formed a conspiracy against the parents this year. No strollers. No candy canes. And no freaking change. Perfect. Combine that with a huge line of screaming, impatient children, and that should just about send all the parents over the edge.

Ho. Ho. Ho.