Nothing says 'Tis the Season' like freezing your ass off in a hardware store parking lot while waiting for the chance to have a photo snapped with an authentic reindeer. We shivered with the masses while we waited our turn in line. My dead-honest, curious little one admired the beautiful beasts and asked, "You going to hunt the deer, Daddy?" The 'elf' who took our money seemed unamused when I responded that I wasn't going to, because reindeer meat is too gamey. As we all took our seat in the red sleigh, Donner the reindeer was led over to us by another elf. It was go time. That was also the moment that my normally placid little one noticed the deer walking toward her. She became possessed, turned into Satan, and began a freak-out of epic proportions. "I don't like the reindeer! He's biting me!" (he wasn't within 5 feet of us). "I don't WAAAAANT TOOOOOOOOO!"
A short time out was called. We would try again later. As we stood up to clear the sleigh for the next family to step up, I caught the heel of a flailing winter boot right square in the jingle bells. Doubled me right over in full view of the waiting throngs. This was going well.
In the end, we gave it another try and managed to get the picture taken. A gust of wind blew snow down the back of my neck as the shutter clicked. Ergo, I look like I'm having a seizure. The little one is scowling like a convicted felon. Donner is not in good spirits, and the whites of his eyes are showing as he strains to pull his head away from the shot. Mom looked normal, though. I assume that's why we chose that particular shot as the keeper.
Since we hadn't had nearly enough fun yet, we next paid a visit to Santa. My daughter was very excited. I quizzed her on what she was going to say to him. "I want a doll. And thank you." Perfect! Santa was going to be so impressed.
Her eyes lit up when she saw Santa in the flesh. She even wore a shirt with Santa on it to make a good impression. But alas, as we approached Santa, she did the classic lock-up where her body became as stiff as a board and she was unmovable. As I tried to coax her forward, she switched defenses and went with the amazing noodle tactic.
The endoskeleton of a child is amazing. They can go from starfish to jellyfish in an instant. Santa was very understanding, though. We managed to get Santa to stand next to me for a photo. You can just make out the very back of my daughter's head, since she had managed to burrow most of her body inside my coat. I look like I'm about 42 months pregnant and am giving birth through my sternum.
On the ride home, she blurted, "I'm hungry. I don't want to eat Santa's beard. Too gamey..." That was random. But from the tone of her voice, I know that she very truly meant it.
At jammie-time, we re-capped the day's events. She became philosophical. "Does the Easter Bunny have a beard?" How in the world do I answer that? A rabbit is basically one big beard. Good grief.
At least I have a few months to think that answer through.
