Pessimistic Optimism

Life as I see it… sort of.

Santa Fears and a Little Lady With a Tool Belt (part one)

Nothing says the holidays like a child screaming and crying on Santa’s lap.  It could only have been better if he had a load in his pants, my son, not Santa.

Breakfast With Santa is meant to be an entertaining day for parents and children during the holiday season and it didn’t let us down.  I knew that we were in for a treat when my daughter asked if we were at the North Pole when we pulled into the parking lot.  My first thought was are you stupid or something, does this look like the North Pole, then I remembered that she’s only three and cute as a button.  We then reluctantly told her no because we didn’t want her to get the impression that they have Guinness on tap in Santa’s workshop.  We explained that Santa takes his act on the road before Christmas.  I think she bought it.

The party was full of different baked goods, juices and most importantly, coffee.  While the kids stuffed their faces, my wife, mother and I chugged down some caffeinated liquid gold.  I figured that I’d need as much help in the energy department to keep up with the wee ones and the ladies just like to be buzzed.

The magic show peaked my daughter’s interest so she wedged herself between two boys on the floor by the stage.  She’s new to sitting in a group without her parents so we didn’t know what to expect.  In the beginning she let other kid’s responses dictate hers.  The more she sat “watching” the magician the more confident she became.  I looked away for a moment and she was out of my sight.  I didn’t panic on the outside right away because it was a private party and my wife didn’t seem concerned and I care what people think about me.  Relief washed over me when I noticed that my sweet little girl had wiggled her way to the front row.  She must have known that the magician would ask for a volunteer and the easiest place to be seen is up front.  He asked and she was the first to raise her hand and the rest of her body, but he unfortunately blew her off and went with an older kid.  Our daughter was disappointed and just stood at the edge of the stage and stared at the magician with poor judgment.  In a sign of solidarity my son joined her at the edge of the stage and proceeded to pull the Velcro dressing (?) off of it.  It’s good to see them take a stand together even though he had no idea what in the Hell was going on around him.  This was a proud parental moment because they were the only children on their feet at this point of the show with the exception of the little prima donna whom was “chosen” by The Great Nitwittini.  I crept up to the stage and scooped up the boy with one hand, revelcroed the material in its place and got out of the way without anyone noticing… except maybe the couple of hundred people.  I also quietly advised my daughter to please sit down.  My son calmed down after a minute and my daughter eventually sat down and watched the magician.  The look of disappointment remained on my little girl’s face as she gave the obligatory clap along with the rest of the onlookers.  All the children wandered away when the show ended except her so I helped her to her feet and we walked hand-in-hand back toward our table.

All was well again because a line formed in front of the balloon animal clown and we were only about six kids out.  Fortunately my daughter wasn’t afraid of the disturbing appearance of the clown.  She looked as though she’d be more comfortable in a corner bar with a shot and a cigarette in her hands, the clown that is.

This is not finished.  Check back tomorrow for the conclusion of this fascinating day in history.

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December 6, 2006 - Posted by | Humor, kids, parenthood, Ranting

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