Wednesday, December 19, 2012

A Visit to St. Nicholas

See, boys who took a Latin final this morning and absolutely are not reading my blog, see?  There’s a difference between the ablative and the dative.  In the ablative, the post would be the title of a beloved Christmas poem, but in the dative, it’s a description of how I spent my afternoon.

Anyway, this afternoon Margaret and Ellie and I went to a snooty mall in the area to meet friends and have pictures taken with Santa.  I came to the conclusion that it was an exceptionally nice mall to do Christmas shopping at – there was ample parking in the garage, it wasn’t crowded, it had nice soothing lighting – except for the slight hitch that I couldn’t really afford anything there.  Anyway, we didn’t have a long wait at all, and we got pictures.

As we approached the Santa staging area, it got so that we could see people* who were sitting with Santa, as well as the man in the big red suit himself.  And I began to worry, because all the babies that I saw sit on his lap immediately burst into tears.  It hadn’t even occurred to me that Ellie would have this problem, but it seems that there is some magical anti-child aura around him.

Our friends got there.  Magical screaming baby. 

Nervously, we stepped up.  I put Margaret on his knee, and then Ellie.  I crossed my fingers.




Apparently Ellie is immune to Santa-related screaming, which is nice.  Although I had a really great blog post planned out for the screaming kid with Santa picture.  Humph.

Also, they’re starting to look more alike.

*You would wish that we could say kids, but there were some adults posing with Santa. 

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