**Written Tuesday morning, before we knew we had to go to the Denver Children’s Hospital**
For starters, thank you so much for the well wishes for Natalie. She seems to be doing okay.
Some people asked how she got the abscess in the first place. The answer? I’m not sure. The doctor told me that they just form sometimes. I still feel awful and have been letting Natalie watch extra episodes of Yo Gabba Gabba. I’m somewhat traumatized but she’s happy so it’s all good.
Anyhow, I brought the kids to see Santa yesterday. Pictures with Santa are a total rip off. The cheapest package was $17. You weren’t allowed to take your own photos. One lady whipped out her camera and the photographer nearly had a heart attack.
“You can’t take photos over here!” she yelped at the baffled mother.
Natalie immediately started to cling to my leg the second we got in line. The entire way there she had been singing, “I sit on Santa’s lap!” and the second she set eyes on the big guy, she began to clam up.
“It’s okay, Natalie. Santa is nice. Don’t you want to sit on Santa’s lap?” I asked gently.
Natalie shook her head. “No thanks.”
I figured when it was our turn that she might change her mind. But no. When Santa motioned for us to come over, Natalie refused to budge.
“NO THANKS! I NO YIKE SANTA! NO THANKS!” she screamed. I picked her up and she wrapped her hands around my neck and tried to climb onto my head. At least I think this is what she was doing. Maybe she was just kicking me. I don’t know.
Tommy easily went over to Santa. “Good morning,” Tommy said primly as he settled on Santa’s lap.
“Good morning,” Santa answered. I really wish Santa had a real beard. The fake ones look so…well, fake. “What do you want for Christmas?”
Tommy tapped his chin a few times while his sister started to choke me.
“Natalie….Mommy can’t breathe,” I gasped.
“I NO YIKE SANTA!” Natalie yelled right into my ear.
“I want fun slides, a sled, and a puppy,” Tommy said.
First of all, he’s been asking for Megatron, Monster Jam trucks, and remote control car. We got all of that for him by the way. Why did he all of a sudden change his list? He can’t change his list like that! He won’t be getting fun slides, a sled, OR a puppy.
I must have looked panicked because Santa said, “I’ll try my very best but if you don’t get those things, it doesn’t mean Santa loves you any less, okay?”
Tommy seemed a bit let down. “Okay,” he sighed.
“Have you been a good boy this year?” Santa inquired.
Tommy hesitated and then went, “Well, I sort of cut my hair yesterday and Mommy got mad.”
This is true. He did cut his hair. I went in to get him in the morning and I realized he was missing a few inches of his bangs.
“Tommy!” I had shouted. “What happened to your hair?”
Tommy grinned. “I cut it myself! Do you like it?”
I mean, what should I have said? Should I have lied and gone, “Yes, it’s fab!” I know all the experts say to praise your child but I don’t think they meant praise your child when he’s cut his own hair and now has a hairstyle like Lady Gaga.
Santa seemed amused over the story. “You cut your own hair? Well, you probably shouldn’t do that again. Scissors are dangerous.”
Tommy wrinkled his nose. “I’m seven! I’m allowed to play with scissors now. So long as I don’t run with them.”
Santa seemed at a loss for a few seconds and then he went, “You have a Merry Christmas!” Then he turned to Natalie, who was still clawing me. “Hi sweetie. Do you want to come say hello?”
“NOOOO! I NO YIKE SANTA!” Natalie sniffled.
“That’s okay. Santa will still bring you some toys,” Santa called out. He seemed thankful that I wasn’t bringing her over.
I paid for Tommy’s overpriced picture—“does this come with a gift card to Gymboree?” I joked as I handed the woman a twenty and she just stared at me blankly. What? For that price, it should come with a gift card to Gymboree.
As soon as we were at a safe distance from Santa, Natalie unclenched her hands from my hair.
It’s a shame that she didn’t take a picture with Santa. She had on a cute outfit too:
Maybe next year?