We had grand plans to bring Margs to meet Santa for the first time this weekend. Last year, she was only a couple weeks old and we were so overwhelmed with having a tiny newborn that visiting Santa was the last thing on our minds. This year Margs is older and we thought it would be a wonderful idea and something we’d like to add to our holiday traditions.
We waited in line for an hour. We passed our time watching this merry go round go round and round and round ( do you want to know how many times it went round and round in an hour? 33 times.) and eavesdropping on families as they discussed Santa wish lists with their kids.
Guys, there was what looked like a 5 year old who mentioned that his top 3 items included a laptop, an iPad and the new iPhone. I’m still wrapping my head around it.
Margs was too afraid to ride the merry go round. Instead she was quite content pointing at the reindeer as they went round and round and round. But, when an elf approached and asked her if she wanted a ride it became pretty clear she was uncomfortable with the whole situation.
When it came time to finally meet Santa, Mer and I had high hopes. I’d “prepared” by watching Christmas cartoons, reading Christmas books and showing her images of the big guy in the days leading up to the big visit.
Then, something like this happened. Margs started hyperventilating and crying so hard there were real tears and snot. It was an absolute mess.
Note: not my kid. This image was borrowed from here.
The rest of the day sucked too. She was overstimulated, tired and miserable. This led to her skipping a nap, not eating properly and being a hot mess until the wee hours of Sunday morning.
The verdict. Screw Santa.
I’ve already got some deep issues with the whole Santa comes into your home on Christmas eve stuff we feed our kiddos. Now, I’m really rethinking this whole “let’s visit a mall Santa” thing too.
Margs was horrified when Mer just handed her over to this strange man with a long beard and a red suit. The look on her face wasn’t just fear… it was absolute terror. She was downright terrified and I’m convinced her crappy nights sleep (waking up and letting out blood curdling screams) had to do with Santa flash backs or elf flash backs or reindeer flashbacks or some gross combination of all three.
Mer and I discussed this issue at 3 am. Yup, we were up at 3 with Margs watching Mothergoose club because she’d woken up for the third time and we needed to calm her down. Anyway, we both agreed that until our little girl is able to voluntarily agree to visit Santa we would not force her to meet him.
Our outing Saturday wasn’t for our kid. Instead, it was a way for us to live through her and create some sort of holiday memory that we thought would bring her joy. This parenting thing isn’t easy – sometimes we catch ourselves doing things we think she’ll like but then realize when it fails miserably that it was most likely something we wanted to do instead.
Moving forward – Margs decides. No more mall Santa for us until this little girl can tell me “Mama, take me to see the big guy”.