Santa and The Mall

I hate the freaking mall. It is the last place I want to go when I need to do holiday shopping. The crowds, the nasty fast food smell, the stores that sell unoriginal Chinese-made crap-- it is all just too much for this mama to bear. And yet, out of necessity, I found myself there last week trying to find some plain old long sleeved white onesies for the Turtles' thrift store Christmas dresses.

It seemed like it would be a quick trip. I would take Vivi to the mall and my husband would take the Turtles off to the local Medicare office building in a desperate attempt to try and figure out why he hasn't been paid for the last nine months of work. (Alas, his pay has been foiled by a Kafka-esque scenario involving a change of address form. It would almost be funny if it wasn't our damn livelihood. But I digress...)

Anyway, back to the mall... We had no luck with the onesies and as Vivi and I were hightailing it around a corner trying desperately to get back out to the daylight, she stopped in her tracks and gasped in surprise. There, in all of his furry, festive, and belly-shaking glory, was Santa Claus. Vivi stood there motionless as she took in the scene.

I crouched down next to her and said, "V, you know, that isn't the real Santa Claus. The real Santa is at home busy making all the toys for the well-behaved girls and boys." All the while, I was thinking about how I hated the mall for putting me in this predicament.

"Mama, he is waving at me," she said in a whisper.

"You can wave at him if you'd like," I answered.

She waved and then blew him a kiss. He blew her a kiss.

I said, "Are you ready to go now?"

She nodded and we headed off in the opposite direction. When we were a few feet away, she said, "Mama, that was the real Santa Claus."

"Oh yeah? What makes you think so?"

"He waved at me so he must have known who I was. Plus, I don't think pretend Santas blow kisses."

That was enough to convince Vivi and her sincerity softened my crankiness about the commercialization of the holidays. It was a magical moment for her and I hope I will always remember it. I still don't think the real Santa hangs out at the stupid mall to charge people an arm and a leg for a photo though.

Comments

  1. Kristin @ Intrepid MurmuringsDecember 8, 2009 at 5:01 PM

    Oh that is so sweet! I think I might take my girls for a Santa meet and photo op (hopefully NOT at the mall, but we'll see!), because I think that my 3 year old would also really get into the magic of it all. I don't know whether to introduce the idea of Santa "helpers " (fake Santas) or not...

    ReplyDelete
  2. KeriDecember 9, 2009 at 10:10 AM

    I totally get the Santa issue. I have never talked with my kids about Santa and how they will get presents from him, etc. My kids know that gifts are exchanged between family members but they do know about Santa as Saint Nicholas and how he was a generous person who gave toys to poor children long ago. The only Santa I let my kids see is the one at the University theatre where I work. Every year they have the same Christmas show which is awesome and Santa makes an appearance there. However, this Santa is a dear friend from when I was a theatre minor years ago. He grows a beard specifically for this show every year. Such a sweet soul-he fully embraces the role of Santa. No expensive pictures either. =P This mama approves. ;)

    ReplyDelete
  3. Mama Mama Quite ContraryDecember 9, 2009 at 10:31 AM

    Keri, that sounds like a nice way to do it. Sunfrog, I'm not sure about the Santa helper thing either. I think we'll probably just leave it as "the REAL Santa" doesn't hang out at the mall.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Halfway There Giveaway

Image
At the beginning of the year, I made a commitment to myself and to Dollimama  (my fellow blogger and mother of twins) to take a few minutes each week for myself.  I promised that I would blog about what I did every Friday and link up to her site.   As it turns out, I was great at taking the time for myself but not so good at blogging about it.  (I know you are heartbroken to have missed my weekly missives about the YMCA.) Do not despair, fair reader, I am here to redeem myself.  I am participating in the: Cue the wild cheering and applause! I am giving away a little "me time" care package. While I won't give the specifics (who doesn't love a surprise?), the package will include something you can do for yourself, something you can do with a friend, and something that will help you do something for someone else.   To enter, please leave a comment telling me the most interesting place you have ever traveled. For a bonus entry, become a follower of this blog and leav
Read more

Peace and Quiet

My girls spend a lot of time together.  Jude and Elie are inseparable for all the reasons associated with young twins and, apart from when she is in school, Vivi is home with them.  Vivi will often try to engage her sisters in her games which generally consist of bossing J&E around in the name of playing "school" or "dance class" or "summer camp." The problem is that Jude and Elie drive Vivi crazy.  They don't listen.  They don't follow her directions and even worse, they are full of their own ideas.  Oh, and sometimes they just. won't. stop. touching. her. stuff.  The few harmonious moments of sibling love quickly spiral into a three-way battle for control. I've tried to talk with Vivi about some of the ways that she can deal with her sisters.  Her first step is what we have called the counter-offensive.  She put this sign on her door: JUDE OR ELIYA CAN'T COME IN!!!!! This is Aviva's room.  Onle [only] mom and dad c
Read more

What Is a Good Mother?

For the most part, I think I am a good mother.  I feed, clothe, and clean my children.  I tell them I love them.  I give them independence and encouragement.  I read to them and play games with them and drive them places.  I try to utilize positive reinforcement. Except when I don't.  There are times when I lose it.  When I throw a (plastic) plate across the kitchen because it is 8:00 at night and I told you it was bed time and not snack time.  When the whining is so insufferable that all I can do is shout "STOP IT NOW!!!!!!" at the top of my lungs so that I stun you into silence.  When I have to ask you for the tenth time to put the god-damned markers away because I am fed-up with scrubbing ink off the walls and floors.  When I tell you, "You know what?  I don't actually like that drawing." because I'm feeling spiteful that that you called dinner "disgusting." I've done all those things.  Some of them I've done more than once.  With
Read more