Editors Note: I was going to write about arthritis today, answering your questions and outlining my sporting plans (I've got some good ones in mind), but that bummed me out too much, so I've written this entry instead. "It's my blog, and I'll write what I want to," she says, indignantly.
Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat, and Thing One and Thing Two are all hopped up for Christmas. So all is as it should be.
The weekend kicked off on Friday with the lighting of the local lights. "Santa's going to be there," I said sanguinely, as cheers erupted around me. We duly set off with our friends Emma, Wendy, Charlotte and Caroline. After we arrive, witness the lighting and smell the mulled wine, we learn that Santa is installed in a shop. Friends advise us that the line is now short, so we excitedly make our way there. While we wait, I run into my friend Ellie and ask her how Santa is. "Well, I think he might be having a bit of a laugh," she said, and then made the universal motion of hoovering up drugs to indicate to the parents what was awaiting us. "No! It can't be!!" said Mrs. Christmas (that would be me) appalled at the idea that no Santa-controls were in place.
But I'm pretty sure she was right. We finally got to the door, but had to wait while Santa disappeared behind his chair for about a minute. You can draw your own conclusions. I didn't detect any white powder on his face, but then again, it was covered with a beard. The young man, clad in a Santa costume, handed the boys their bags, wished them a Merry Christmas and we were out. No enquiries as to what was on their lists. No comments on their behaviour. Really, he was the worst Santa I've ever seen.
Perhaps this is just the 21st Century equivalent of sitting on the lap of a drunk Santa.
On the way home, Thing One turned to me, unprompted, and said, "You know Mom, sometimes there's Santas out there that aren't REALLY Santa. They're just pretending."
"That's right," I replied, picking up the observation and running with it. "Santa is really, really busy in December. Every once in a while he does get to go to a mall or a store, but lots of times there are people who are just playing dressing up."
"That makes sense," Thing One replied.
The conversation then turned again to what chimney Santa will use when he comes on Christmas Eve. Now that we're in a new house, there has been much discussion as to which chimney Santa will come down (there are five fireplaces to choose from, believe it or not). The boys finally concluded that they thought he would come down their chimney, since it's on the top floor and closest to the roof, but still leave the presents under the Christmas tree downstairs.
Let's just hope they've already forgotten about the "Santa" they saw Friday.
