Last night, against our better judgment, we took the kids to see jolly old St. Nick.
At first, we weren’t going to tell them but Brock doesn’t like surprises, so we figured rather than having a meltdown, it would be best that he have a few minutes to prepare himself to meet the big man. Usually Brock resists doing anything other than going to his grandparents’ houses or staying home & watching a movie in his underwear but last night, he was pumped. He even got himself dressed. Adrianna was much more of a challenge. She didn’t want to wear her dress. Then she didn’t want me to do her hair. When she finally let me put a bow in her hair to keep her bangs out of her face, she was mad because we wouldn’t let her wear her new hat.
I could go on but you get the idea.
She is two and lives to be contrary.
The entire way to the “North Pole” aka Bass Pro (obviously we like to keep it klassy), Brock asked us, “Are you sure you know where you’re going?” “Is this really the way to Santa’s house?” After he convinced himself that Daddy knew Santa well enough to remember how to get to his house, he started on his list. “Oh! I know! I’m going to tell Santa that I want a new shotgun! And I want Socker Boppers* so we can fight! And I want more cars so I can race them!” See what I mean about a plan? The boy had it all mapped out and new exactly what he was going to tell the fat man. Mark my words: Brock is going to be the only one in our house that is prepared for the Zombie Apocalypse.
When we arrived at Bass Pro, Brock saw all of the boats out front and immediately declared, “Oh! I see Santa’s sleigh!” We finally figured out that Brock decided that Santa’s sleigh turned into a boat so it would be hidden and people wouldn’t play on it and tear it up.
The boy is a quick thinker.
He gets it from his momma.
As soon as we found Santa’s workshop, Brock knew his mission. He looked around until he spotted his target and, in one fluid movement, he dropped his dog, removed his coat, waved and yelled, “Hi Santaaaaaa!!!!!”. He ran right up to him and jumped on his lap like they were the best of friends.
(Please note: visible white socks. The boy is growing like a weed. Send halp. Or longer jeans.)
Adrianna had a few more reservations about Santa.
She immediately hid behind my legs. I managed to peel her off of me but then she attached herself to my arms and wouldn’t let go.
She finally settled on standing in the vicinity of Santa while holding Daddy’s hand.
Side note: Bass Pro peeps? Need better lighting. Neither my kids nor Santa have jaundice. And Brock’s lips aren’t normally that red. It’s just the lighting, I swear.
As soon as we walked away from Santa, Adrianna was fine.
Like, annoyingly okay with the situation.
There were little booths set up where you can shoot (fake) guns. Because nothing says, “Happy Holidays!” quite like the *ping* of a BB gun. She was pleased as punch that she found a pink gun that she could “shoot”.
In other news, I think I might have found an idea for our Christmas cards. Kids holding guns sends a good message, yes?
Merry Christmas to all! And to all, a good night!!
*I’m fairly certain that these things were invented to give mothers everywhere a series of mild strokes.