It went like this:
Me: "Honey - do you want to go see Santa tomorrow?"
The Little (TL): "No."
Me, incredulously: "You don't want to go and see Santa?"
TL: "No mama. No need. No need Sanna."
We tried again this morning.
Me: "Guess what we're going to do today?! We're going to go and see Santa!"
TL: "No! No wanna Sanna! No need Sanna!"
So we bundled him anyway and made the drive into Portland to the Pioneer Square Macys where they have The. Best. Santa. Clause. Ever. Period.
And we waited patiently in line marveling at the glittery, twinkle light wonderland that has transformed the basement of Macys into Santa's North Pole home.
And as we stepped up to Santa, my child - my child who has NO fear, my child who would go home with strangers if they asked him, my child who walks up to complete strangers and hugs and kisses them....my child was paralyzed. Paralyzed with complete and total FEAR of Santa.
Did I mention he was The. Best. Santa. Ever.? He was.
The only words my child would say to Santa were after much encouragement and gentle prodding. They were uttered under his breath as we were leaving.
"Bye, bye Sanna." Which of course produced the most amazing, true to life "Ho-ho-ho" of a belly laugh from St. Nick. Seriously. This Santa was magical. And my child refused to look at him, talk to him, or sit on his lap. See for yourself:
Excuse the goofy look on my face. I was telling Santa I wanted my parking validated for Christmas.
Yes, that was as close as my son got to Santa and only then with me acting as referee between the two of them.
So we politely thanked the kind North Pole employees at Macys and made our way through the rest of the winter wonderland in search of lunch.
Recovering from the sheer horribleness that his parents made him go through.
There's always next year.
Yours in childhood magic - or terror, as the case might be,