Tonight we took the boys to our favorite-neighborhood-anti-Toys-R-Us-toy store for a special sitting with Santa Claus (or as #1 cleverly perceived, probably not the real one, but maybe one of his elves or something). We took the obligatory Santa picture, played some reindeer games and consumed mass quantities of peppermint, cookies, and hot cocoa all in the charming and magical setting of the most wonderful little toy store around. A particular highlight of the outing was #3's account of his own face to face with the jolly old elf. Me: (excited that this encounter did not actually end in a totally disastrous meltdown) Did you get to talk to Santa Claus?
#3: (nonchalantly, as if he hasn't screamed bloody murder every single time he has ever before been placed upon that red velvet knee) Oh, yeah.
Me: (my heart immediately effervescing thoughts of all the sweet things my precious baby could tell Santa Claus. . .that he likes to play with balls. . .that he will share with his brothers. . .that he's been a good boy. . .) What did you tell him, doodlebug?
#3: I say to Santa, you give me my candy.
Wow. . .I wouldn't be in the least bit surprised if that one got some coal in his little stocking (okay, yes I would). ;-)
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