There we were, standing in a line that wrapped around the block. Childless passerby stared and some even leaned in with a, “What’s this line for?” Well, it’s December 22 and EVERY person in this line is holding a baby. Santa. The line is for Santa. Obvi. And then, one such passerby responded by leaning in even closer, looking directly at Wyatt and proclaiming, “Santa’s overrated.”
Oh no he didn’t.
Santa is exactly, perfectly rated. He is the stuff Christmas dreams are made of. Obviously, since my child is 15 months old, I mean the stuff MY dreams are made of.
Last Christmas Wyatt was 3.5 months old. He was still trying to hold up his own head and was a master at the enormous diaper blow out. And Christmas with him was AWESOME. Just so super amazingly awesome. We showed him the Christmas tree and the lights. We helped him open presents and we took him to see Santa. And it was only about 1000x times more amazing than the Christmas when I was super worried Santa couldn’t find us at Grandma’s house in Ohio, but HE DID!!!
This Christmas Wyatt is awed by the tree and the lights and the ornaments. He walks into the living room and proudly points to the star, proclaiming, “Stahh.” He takes ornaments off the tree and kisses them. (And, his fondness for pickles resulted in an unfortunate glass pickle ornament getting a giant bite taken out of it…).
So, yes, there we stood, waiting to place our sweet son in Santa’s welcoming arms. I had Wyatt laughing up a storm in line and I knew this was going to be such a delightful experience.
And now it’s time to share the results:
Wyatt HATED Santa. No, hated is probably the wrong word. He was terrified. Just completely, utterly terrified of the sweetest, jolliest man on Earth. So terrified that when I took Wyatt to the bathroom to change an enormous blowout (at least some things never change) he refused to let go of me when I tried to lay him on the changing table. His arms clenched so tightly around my neck I had to just lay there on the table with him while he held me.
Let’s take a side-by-side look at the difference a year can make:
Seriously buddy? The creepiest Santa of all time has you sitting there chill as can be. And, sweet Father Christmas turns you into a hysterical mess.
(Did I mention the second Wyatt began screaming in sheer terror EVERY OTHER PARENT IN THE ROOM BURST OUT IN HYSTERICAL LAUGHTER. Not even kidding.)
Well, Santa wasn’t a big hit this year, but, because Wyatt was so terrified, he spent most of the night crying and refused to sleep without me or Joel in the room with him. So, even though it’s been ages, much to my delight Wyatt revived the old Family Bed, and he and I snuggled all night.
All in all, I’d say it was a complete success.