Well, that was a blast.
On Wednesday afternoon, I took Baby Girl to see Santy Paws (Satan Claws or Santa Claus, depending on if you believe in Ceiling Cat, Basement Cat, or are just a plain pagan). We stood in line for close to three hours. There was one Santa’s helper on duty, and for obvious reasons (being ridiculously old), he kept on taking breaks. You’d think Columbia Mall would work out…
Thousands of parents x $13.95 (at least) per sitting == they can afford more than one Santa, and possibly a few hundred Santa’s.
But no. Oh well.
Baby Girl was awesome. She hung out in line with me even though she had little to do, and couldn’t go crawling or exploring – which as every parent knows is a recipe for Total Munchkiness. However, she was happy for the most part – including the first bit when we shuffled past Santa’s Grotto on the way to the entrance some hour or so ahead. She liked what she saw – kids sitting on this old man’s knee and stuff going on. However, looking back now, I think it may have been the computer and the cameras. She’s an awesome geek grrl and loves her gadgets.
The line went on and on. When she got too antsy, I gave her some puffs and water. After about two hours, she started getting really antsy, trying to stand up and get out of the stroller. So I fed her one of the last pre-made bottles. Awesome baby girl returned. I didn’t know how much longer she’d last as it was well past nap time, but I persevered. She let the slightly older girls just in front of us touch her face and play with her toys on the front of the stroller. Things were looking good, even though I really wished she had taken a nap.
She was ultra good right until the end. Santa took a break just before me, and as he walked past, Baby Girl started to show the five early signs of being tired, which is being a bit crotchety and rubbing her eyes and being a bit of a munchkin. Oh well, only a few more minutes.
So Santa came back, and I quickly put her on his lap thinking this could be a one shot deal, all the while making sure she could see me. I didn’t even let go of her hand before…
Tears started flowing, tears of real fear. She stared at Santa, pulled away towards me, and started gulping air. Not good. Although I secretly (okay, not so secretly) wanted a photo of her crying as that makes an awesome 21st birthday picture, I didn’t want what came next…
Santa got it good, and so did baby girl’s costume and the floor. Suffice to say, as she’s growing up fast she doesn’t do inoffensive and small up chucks any more. She did a veritable projectile exorcism of toddler barf. It stunk of mostly digested puffs, milk, lunch and formula. Poor baby girl!
I took her to the men’s bathroom, which thankfully had a change area, and got her cleaned up and changed into emergency civilian clothes.
She looked at me so sadly that I couldn’t take her back to go sit on the old man’ s lap again. I’m reasonably certain Santa was relieved as well.
So no Christmas photo with Santa this year. Of course, from the Silver Lining in Every Bad Cloud Situation Department: I have an awesome story for her 21st birthday! Yay!