I tried to coerce the older kids to have their picture taken with Santa, but they decided to wreak havoc skip out and walk the mall with friends. So Matthew and I were left alone, in a fairly short line, and he decided he didn’t want to see Santa alone. The vision of me squatting at the knee of Santa one year while holding Matthew in my arms pops into my head. I wasn’t dressed for the occasion, and I hate that picture! This can’t be happening again! So I did what every good mom would do. I begged and pleaded, gave him my sad face, and it worked. He marched right up there and sat down on Santa’s lap, and proceeded to tell him what is on his wish list. And a few other things that he hadn’t told me yet.
Now I love this Santa. He is the same man that Brooke sat on 14 years ago when she was a baby. It was the same man 2 years later when Zach was a baby. We have history. We go way back. I will cry if he retires before Matthew…ya know…finds out….
We won’t go there, not yet. He knows that we celebrate Christmas for Jesus birthday and not for Santa, but it’s just one of those magical things that I’m not ready to give up on yet.
